Jungle Boogie
by Lunar
Summary: WW5 is in full swing. Deunan x Briareos, drafted into the Federated American army, have their hands full in proving themselves to a new squad on a new battle ground. If you can't trust your commanders, at least you can trust your partner!  mangaverse
1. Chapter 1

**Jungle Boogie**

D E U N A N

After surviving the fourth leg of their trip south, and over twenty hours of nonstop plane hopping, she'd had enough. Flying was never her favorite method of travel, and riding in the cramped and under-insulated cargo holds of the military transport planes, was not improving her opinion of the experience. Deunan made a promise to herself they'd either get a six hour layover at their next stop, or she'd shoot someone. The court-martial proceedings couldn't be any worse than their trip-from-hell, and being locked up would at least let them get a chance at a real meal or two and a night not sleeping wedged between bales of scrap in heavy turbulence.

She'd been warned that their journey would be grueling. But the need to get out of their old unit as fast as possible had trumped any personal need for comfortable accommodations. Jamming her shoulders against the minimal padding of her 'seat' she felt the plane's angle increase, and braced for the inevitable rough landing. Her 'borg wouldn't bruise as easily, but he could get fed up with being rattled as much as the next person. Briareos had agreed whole-heartedly to the last-minute transfer however. And as he was the one with the least to look forward on their cargo-run south, she opted to let his be the vote to seal the deal.

The jet landed with a bump and a spine-rattling roll along what had to be a dirt runway. With no windows in the main hold, there was no way to tell what the hell was going on. Deunan gritted her teeth against the feel of her already-bruised shoulders being further abraded by her harness and added 'half-washed out dirt runway' to her private bet with herself. Until some merciful son of a bitch in the cockpit lowered the back ramps to let them out her mental wager would be left unresolved. As the only two 'passengers' on this particular flight, they were rated little better than the freight packed in around them. Or quite possibly they were rated _worse_ than freight. The bales and boxes lashed to the deck around them could be bartered, or sold. What were two worn-down and out-of-place urban specialists worth, in the grand scheme of things? Deunan wouldn't have been surprised to learn that the crew had forgotten they were even on board.

Glancing Briareos' direction, she winced in sympathy as he used his good arm to brace his damaged one against his chest, trying to absorb some of the shock of landing. There were no standard seats available for cyborgs on any of the jets they'd shuffled between over the past day. There'd barely been accommodations for _her_ and those were minimal. Her partner had to make due with cables and ties left over from the _other_ bulk goods being flown across country. After some initial fumbling they'd gotten pretty good at rigging his 'harness' with the ratchets and hooks available. The various straps pinning him against the plane's side pulled taunt as they did the job of holding him roughly in place for the rocky ride.

Three _months_ in Alaska, she cursed to herself. The whole reason for them being there was for him to get the repairs he needed; and the quack doctors had done little better than dick around the whole time. Their so-called fix had ended up being so flimsy that he might as well have just not bothered with them poking at him at all. In the field again for barely two weeks, and already the wiring in Briareos' primary hydraulics for his right arm were shorting out again. Hardly life threatening, it made his limb all but unusable, and sounded painful as hell. She bit her lip, hoping _this time_ the promise of an outfit with an experienced cybernetics support crew wasn't just a pipe dream.

She didn't like to see Briareos hurting. Unlike _her_ if it got too bad, her cyborg could always just detach the limb all together, or at least shut it down. However that meant that his marginally useful arm would become total dead weight. Given the real the worry that it might not power-on again if taken offline, he'd been putting up with the damaged arm for days rather than cripple himself further.

Louvers opened with a mechanical squeak somewhere in the metal gratings overhead. The pilots had opened the external intakes, letting some genuine fresh air at last, replacing the stuff that had been recycled for hours. Breathing a sigh of relief, Deunan felt an immediate improvement in her equilibrium as the metallic tang faded. The air venting in to their cabin took on loamy organic scent as the props spun down, slowing their forward momentum to a gradual stop. Deunan popped the buckles on her harness. Moving carefully against any unexpected jerks of the plane until she could reach her partner, she helped strip him of the web of restraints he was wrapped in. Briareos did his best to assist, but rattled, and one handed, he couldn't do all that much other than get in the way. She swatted his hand aside after their third accidental collision and wrestled with the catches on the clips alone until they fell away. Her cyborg rolled his shoulders in silent relief.

For a moment the fluorescent interior lighting flickered and died, leaving them sitting in pitch darkness. Then the back doors cracked open with a mechanical groan. Daylight streamed into the cavernous hold as massive winches unrolled the counterweighted cables and let the cargo ramp swing down to the ground. Deunan felt the initial blast of humid heat from outside with a gasp of surprise. Heavy enough to smother the unsuspecting, the damp atmosphere was a dramatic change from the parched arctic air of where they had been mere days ago. She was grimly glad she'd bartered her winter-weight uniform away during their hour of down time between transits in Colorado. She'd have passed out trying to wear the fleece lined combat gear in the jungle that greeted them at the end of the ramp. Blinking in partly-blinded amazement at the sunlight-saturated canopy, she had to whistle. "I think we're here, handsome."

"No kidding. Green enough for you?" Briareos nodded in agreement, still bracing his arm as he peered out of the shadows of the hold and into the unexpected sunlight.

They weren't in Alaska anymore. That was certain. As far south as she'd ever been in her life, she was awed at the lushness of the vegetation. Trees _everywhere_ as far as the eye could see. After over a year in the near-desert to the east of the Rockies, and months in the near-arctic conditions of their last assignment, the variety of plants in front of her was almost a physical shock to the system. She shook herself to keep from gaping like an idiot. First-thing-first, she told herself practically. They were _done_ with the damned plane.

Deunan shouldered both their carry-alls before her man could move to claim his own, and stepped out of the cargo hold to stare around her, trying to adapt to the alien climate. Briareos caught her by the arm, pulling her gently out of the way of the ground crews with supply crawlers moving to unload the crates that made up the craft's primary purpose for being there. To their left, down the long alley of dirt and trucks was the base entrance. To their right, the runway continued on a little ways and dead-ended at what looked to be a swampy river.

There was no peering through the trees to get the lay of the land. The leaves of smaller plants wedged into every available nook and cranny, making it impossible to guess the nature of the forest beneath the larger trunks. She'd seen jungle on film, but her scant 'forest survival' skills training had been done in northern California. The forest there had been plenty challenging, but she found it was positively manicured by comparison to the landscape she'd just volunteered herself for. What the hell had they gotten themselves into this time? She wondered faintly as she shifted the bags higher on her shoulders and walked towards an officer shouting orders at the various ground crews.

At least she wouldn't freeze her ass off. Deunan realized with cautious optimism. She might get bit by mosquitoes every five seconds and have to check her boots for scorpions every morning. But she wouldn't have to worry about frostbite anymore.

Standing in line, she didn't bother to try and interrupt the steady stream of orders and responses from the officer in charge. Speaking into two separate radios to volley messages between cargo crews and base, the guy looked like he wouldn't appreciate the distraction. She'd tangled with enough frazzled crew-chiefs over the years to recognize a man willing to snap on a moment's notice when she saw one. Thankfully she didn't really _need_ to say anything. Briareos, in addition to being her partner, and generally better-half, was also – for good or ill – a convenient conversation-stopper when he arrived someplace new. She waited until the guy looked up and froze at the sight of her 'borg before trying to get a word in. "Lieutenant Knute, Lieutenant Hecatonchires formerly of Alaskan infantry, formerly Western Defensive mobile infantry advanced-scouting division. Reporting for duty, sir."

"Papers." The officer had balls, she granted him. Instead of just staring like an idiot at the cyborg standing behind her, he managed to get his act together by the time she was done talking. He accepted the packet she handed to him and flipped through his own papers, correlating the ids and transfer numbers. "You're all set Knute and… Hecatonchires. We've been expecting you."

Deunan blinked not once but twice. Not only had the man not done more than a modest flinch at the sight of her partner, he'd managed _both_ their names without horribly mangling them. After years of getting 'Nut' or 'Kent' for her surname, it was a marvel when anyone figured how to pronounce it on the first try. The odds of the average jarhead pronouncing 'Hecatonchires' without a running start were even more remote. The guy's name patch announced him to be an unremarkable 'Jones' so it was a mystery how he'd pulled it off.

Lieutenant Jones didn't notice her surprise, too busy stamping their various forms with the marker he wore around his neck. He continued his greeting as he worked, not looking up again until he finished. "Take the first left off of the main gate, head towards the blue building. You'll be met by the officer on watch who will handle the rest of your transfer from there." Glancing at them again at last, he visibly winced. Deunan turned to see that Briareos had let go of his bad arm, testing his ability to control it. He was visibly sparking as he attempted to flex his fingers.

"I suggest you get that taken care of." Their host commented grimly. "Off you go, lieutenants. If you get lost, just ask for the base master's office. The local morons'll point it out. Welcome to Comalcalco."

She took her papers back with a nod, wondering if she should send Briareos on ahead while she did the initial hour's worth of signatures-in-triplicate and interviews for him. Throwing his bag over her shoulder again before he could protest, she led the way down the side of the road, concentrating on her footing in the softer stretches of mud.

The 'camp' was a refitted town built in the middle of the jungle. A fortified perimeter wall served double duty, keeping both enemies and trees at bay. Waved through the checkpoint she had to nod in approval at the general 'vibe' of the area. Already it was better than what they had left.

"What happened to you?" The officer sitting behind the counter-keyosk stood to greet them. His eyes immediately focused on Briareos' arm as he stooped through the door. "That looks like it hurts."

"I've had better days." Her cyborg conceded mildly. "I hear you have a specialist in house?"

"We have two." The young man nodded cheerfully. "Just sitting on their hands at the moment, looking for something to do, I bet. You're Lieutenant Hecatonchires, yes? They've been looking forward to seeing you."

The oddly enthusiastic greeting set Deunan's nerves jangling. Catching Briareos' eye she raised an eyebrow to see if he agreed that they'd walked into another 'weird' situation. His instincts were usually better than hers. She'd figured out that Alaska was going to be a nightmare after a few days of settling in. He'd had his hunch before they'd even landed. Still, given where they'd come from, landing in the jungle could hardly be worse? She hoped? He shrugged silently, seeming to have the same opinion. With no lips to grimace with she had to judge by his hunched shoulders, but it was a fair guess to say he was hurting pretty bad. The quieter he got, the more she worried. At this point, she didn't care how crack-potted the medical people were, if they could fix her man, she'd kiss them on the lips and call them saints.

The guy behind the counter continued on without either of them paying particular attention, shuffling folders and juggling a phone-call at the same time as continuing his running chatter. Deunan forced herself to keep up with the junior officer as he started asking her questions about her equipment. Having cut and run as fast as they had from the northern base, they'd left a good deal behind. There was also the matter of wanting to secure some decent bunk space this time. The shared barrack style housing with twenty other women she'd put up for the past months had been complete and utter bullshit. This time she was determined that she get at least a private room, preferably a double with her man. Looking at the fresh-faced petty officer she wondered how easy it would be to sweet talk him into helping her out.

Before she could ask what the usual housing was like on base, she was distracted by the arrival of a guy in a lab coat. Apparently Briareos' injury was going to be given priority over his paperwork. She sighed, torn between relief at the prompt service, and worry at letting him go off on his own. Briareos pointed to his bag, still in her keeping. "Mind that for me, will ya?"

"Got it covered." She agreed, feeling not altogether enthused as he was led off by another weirdly-cheerful stranger.

What was with all these people? She resisted the urge to reach for a weapon. The reflex wouldn't be helpful _here_ and besides, her usual holsters were missing, left behind in the snow. It was nice and all, to be able to show up someplace with her man and not have resentment or fear to deal with, but the overabundance of hospitality was starting to freak her out. What the hell were they so happy for? Briareos had to be a little unsettled at their reaction too or he wouldn't have left her with his stuff, Deunan sighed. Moving light in case he needed to bolt for the trees? She suppressed a smile at the thought. Even in the unlikely event that they were throwing themselves into the clutches of evil scientists, if he couldn't hold his own for the hour it would take her to get their living arrangements sorted out he wasn't the man she fell in love with.

Deunan turned back to her welcoming-committee-of-one, and steeled herself for the tedium of sorting all their registration forms out. "So." She gestured at the various papers awaiting her review. "Where do I start?"

"With _me_ I think, Lieutenant Knute." The voice from the office beside the front desk sounded anything but pleased to see her. Turning automatically towards the implied authority, she eyed his insignia and promptly saluted. Base commander, possibly one of many, her instincts told her. She wished she'd taken a minute to straighten her uniform before coming in the door. The senior officer gave her a silent once over and held out a hand to imply she was to proceed him into his office. His practiced look of dissatisfaction would have made her father proud. "Leave the bags with the petty officer, Knute. The paperwork can wait."

"Sir. Yes sir." Deunan felt the beginnings of a serious foreboding settle in her gut. Still, while the aura around the blowhard was annoyed, it didn't scream 'psychopath', so at least that was a step in the right direction. Keeping her expression schooled to passivity, she let herself into the side room and took up the usual space for interviewees, front and center, facing his desk.

"You came with a cyborg, yes?" The commander settled into his seat, looking up at her with the same grim expression. She wondered if he was actively displeased, or if like Briareos used to, he just had a naturally stern mouth.

"Yes sir. My partner sir."

"Professional? Or domestic?"

Deunan blinked at the candid inference. A point in the guy's favor, she thought. Normally she had to spell it out for people. "Both, sir."

"Hm." Flipping through a stack of important looking paperwork that probably had nothing to do with her, he let her cool her heels on the carpet as he sized her up.

The guy was a former cop. Either that or he had police training at some point in his past. Deunan bit her cheek to keep from smiling as she recognized being on the receiving end of a precisely calculated psychological ploy. Had she been a rookie, or a petty criminal, she'd be sweating, awaiting his review of her file. Sadly, recognizing the tactic defused much of its power to intimidate. Instead she was left wondering whether he was bluffing or not. Did she even have a file in the army? Probably. She was confident that the commander in Wyoming had left her with a pretty glowing review when she and Briareos had shipped north. Likewise, if the commander in Alaska ever stopped cowering long enough to fill out his forms, his review was probably somewhere on the opposite end of the spectrum.

Assuming her new commander had seen both reports, which would he believe? She glanced around his office discretely, making use of his meditative silence to get her own measure of the man. A few bits of military memorabilia, some photos of politicians, a carefully pruned banana tree in an oriental pot. Even the 'personal touches' were so predictable that they could tell her nothing. It was like something out of a photo of Military Life magazine. The nameplate on the desk gave her the only genuinely useful bit of information to prepare for the interview, 'Fuller,' followed by a series of initials for his various ranks and honors.

"He calls himself 'Hecatonchires'? Alluding to his system type, I suppose." Her new commander smoothed back his salt-and-pepper hair despite it already being tidy.

"That's right, sir." Deunan couldn't help but frown. Surprised yet again by the familiarity everyone seemed to treat her partner with. It was surreal how people seemed to take Briareos as a matter of fact. After years of having to fight those around her for even the barest comprehension of who, and what her boyfriend was, having a base full of people already in the know was weird beyond imagining.

The commander raised an eyebrow at her reaction. Sitting back in his chair, he folded his hands across his chest. "This base has a full compliment of cybernetically enhanced soldiers, Lieutenant, several of which are full body transformations. At one time we had six ZIIF suit equipped personnel, to be precise." He nodded, seeing her start of recognition. "Was your partner part of the San Francisco program? Or the Los Alamos trial group?"

"San Francisco." She admitted, amazed. "So there are others… like Bri- Like Lieutenant Hecatonchires here? I mean, aren't they rare? I've only ever met one… and _he's_ only ever met _two_... sir."

"We had until recently the largest group of them together in one place in the army. One from San Francisco, and five more from the other facility…" The mustached officer pressed his fingertips together, looking if possible even more grim as he shared the news. "Sadly, one of them went rogue, ran out into the bush after killing a fellow officer… the others have fallen one-by-one in recent guerrilla activity."

"Oh."

"You can be assured, Lieutenant Knute, that your partner will find our camp well familiar with his particular needs. I heard he requires some maintenance?"

"Yes sir." She bit down on the urge to bitch about their last camp. She hadn't been asked her opinion, and the brass probably didn't particularly care what their previous situation had been. "We asked for transfer to this unit based on availability of parts and expertise."

"He'll be well taken care of. I have no doubt." Commander Fuller tapped his fingers together, giving her another long look. "I must admit, lieutenant, the pair of you have a rather checkered history. You both were drafted in L.A…."

Deunan took a breath, knowing what was coming. "Yes sir."

"And he went with the 125th, while you were assigned to the 112th." He raised an eyebrow as he looked up at her. "Partners usually choose to stick together."

"Yes sir." Seeing that he was waiting for a fuller answer, she tried to find a polite way of saying that her boyfriend was a moron. "At the time sir, he felt that I would be… safer, if I stayed with a division assigned to an urban support role."

"Safer." The man looked down at his papers. Glancing along with him she found he _did_ have her file, the page he was studying held her certifications as of her date of enlistment. "You were a decorated weapons and tactics specialist in the Los Angeles police department, and a SWAT team leader at the time of the start of conflict… and he thought you needed to be kept _safe_?"

Deunan had no answer for that which couldn't be construed as sarcastic, so she just left the question alone. If _he_ was surprised, she had been down right outraged at Bri's one-sided decision. Thanks to her idiot's burst of unwanted over-protectiveness she'd nearly gotten killed. It'd only been by act of god that they'd managed to find one another again months into the war. After that first debacle they'd never spoken of splitting up again.

"You're twenty-one." Her new commander asked, out of the blue.

"Yes sir." She had to stop and do the math quickly, astonished at how time had flown in recent years. Her birthday was coming up in just a month. Soon she'd be twenty-two. The number sounded dauntingly old. At twenty-two a person was supposed to have some clue as to what they wanted to do with their life. She didn't feel particularly wiser or more capable than she'd been at nineteen.

Deunan looked out the window with its alien landscape beyond. Strange to think she spent the first twenty odd years of her life in LA… and then in the last two she'd been as far east as the Ohio desert, and as far north as the Alaskan preserve. If all went well she'd spend her next birthday here at the southern tip of the Mexican territory. Other than the recent fly over, she hadn't seen California in years. Stranger still, she didn't particularly miss it. She missed their old friends, their favorite restaurants, but not the place itself.

"How old were you when you started training?"

"Formally? Sir?"

"Yes." He almost smiled at her need for clarification.

"Sixteen. Sir."

"And informally?"

"Probably twelve or thirteen, sir." Deunan shrugged minutely. "My father was adamant that I get an early start, sir. He was the commander in residence at the academy."

"I know of Carl Knute by reputation." The man waved her off of any need to provide additional explanation. "I also knew a Peter Knute once. He served under me… almost eleven years ago now. Your brother, I believe?"

Now that was a bombshell she hadn't been expecting.

Deunan blinked, staring at the man in surprise. She hadn't heard anyone talk about any of her brothers in years, not since Jan's death. Peter had died even before that, a casualty of a failed UN peacekeeping attempt in central Africa. With two favored sons and a beloved wife predeceasing him, and a daughter who never quite measured up left to raise alone? No wonder her father was so dour.

She could barely remember what Peter looked like anymore. He had graduated from the police academy when she was only just starting kindergarten, and had shipped off shortly after. Peter, for her, existed as a series of letters home to her mother she had found in a drawer and one or two vague memories of a kind-spoken, handsome young man who came home from places far away and brought her presents on holidays. "You knew my brother, sir?"

"A very capable man, Ms. Knute. He looked nothing like you though."

She had to smile at that, even knowing it was unprofessional. Deunan forced her face back to proper impartiality before answering. "He took after my mother's family, sir. Of the three of us, I was the only one to get dad's genes in that respect."

"The 112th, lieutenant. What happened there? Your records are a little vague for that outfit. Official word was they were wiped out… yet here you are."

"About four weeks after the company formed, the second in command killed the lt. colonel to gain control over the battle group, sir." She found she was able to state the facts without wincing now that time separated her from the shock.

Deunan could still remember the feeling of confusion that ran through the officers when Faygan had declared himself commander, walking out of the _real_ commander's tent while wiping the blood off his hands as if he didn't have a care in the world. The jackass hadn't a moral bone in his body, shooting the first four people who dared to protest, before demanding the rest fall in. Two months, she'd kept her head down, cursed her fate, and put up with the lawlessness around her. Then she'd found' Briareos. Or he'd found her?

They'd found each other, and she had run without ever looking back. "I wasn't interested in war profiteering, sir, or being a mercenary. So when the chance came to find myself a better situation, I took it."

"And you found your way to the 137th, advanced scouts. Where your partner had also been reassigned."

"Yes sir."

"Deliberate? Or coincidence?" He asked idly as he made a note in her file.

"Deliberate, sir."

He raised his eyebrow at that as well, but didn't press her further on the subject. "Your commander in the 137th left several… very generous notes of praise in both you profiles. So much so that I took the liberty of contacting him while you were in transit, Lieutenant. He assured me you were both the very best specialists he'd had the pleasure of working with, and he wished you well."

"Sir." Deunan sent a small prayer of gratitude to the poor man, hoping he'd found a more comfortable berth than the tent city in the badlands. It hadn't been a bad outfit, just chronically under-provisioned and under-manned. If Briareos hadn't been desperate for parts, and she for a change of scene, they might have remained in Wyoming for a while longer. But no, they had to be fools and try for something 'better'.

"Why did you transfer to Alaska, Lieutenant Knute?" He came to the real sticking point without further delays. She closed her eyes at the memory of the chaos just before and after their fateful decision.

"B- Lieutenant Hecatonchires was injured in a scouting mission in the fall of last year, sir. We were told that if we stayed where we were, getting parts and a doctor with the skill to use them would take upwards of a season. Juno Base was on a short list of outfits that had the necessary cybernetics expertise. When contacted they offered us those parts, and a signing bonus if we transferred north to join their offensive on the glacier."

"You were _not_ mentioned with any particular praise by _that_ commander I notice." Fuller commented dryly.

Turning the page in his packet he summarized the contents for her benefit. "Five counts of disorderly conduct, for brawling. Thirteen counts of general insubordination. One three-day stint in the brig for… aggravated assault. One warning issued for failure to report for roll call. And one investigation, for friendly fire, which I might mention, your partner is also implicated… It seems that was abandoned as of your departure. Curious. You were there barely three months, lieutenant, yet you made quite a bit of trouble for yourself."

He flipped the stack of papers over, leaning his elbows on them. "What am I to make of this recent change in behavior, I wonder. On the one hand, I'm told I have a talented and pedigreed specialist who will astonish me with her skills and prowess. On the other, I'm told I'm inheriting a chronic hard-case, a maverick officer who has a clear problem with authority…"

Deunan bit her cheek to keep from crying unfair. The charges, as they stood, weren't wrong. She'd done all those things. But there had been _reasons_ for it. It hadn't been like she was picking fights for fun. She fought because it was either fight back, or be a victim. Be insubordinate, or stand by and watch as her partner was misused. The whole outfit had been insane. A mad king ruling over his rabid flock of garden-grade criminals and home-grown sociopaths. The problem was, there was no way to explain to the commander just how bad it had been up there without coming across as three-quarters crazy herself. All she wanted was to put the whole debacle behind her and get on with her life. Commander Fuller was waiting for an answer from her. She looked him in the eye, making a judgment call of her own. "Permission to speak freely, sir."

"Go ahead, lieutenant."

"I realize that my record these past few months hasn't been… acceptable. But there were circumstances involved beyond my control. My partner and I are willing to prove ourselves to you with any reasonable measures you see fit to test us with. All we ask is for a fair assessment, housing, rations, pay. With all due respect sir, we know how to do our jobs, and do them well, if we're allowed to."

"And you're implying, that the senior officers in Alaska… were unreasonable in their demands on you?" His stare was as unreadable as her father's ever was. Yet again she was irresistibly reminded of the man's usual interrogation tactics. Commander Fuller was younger than her parent by at least ten years. Perhaps he'd been coming up in the ranks as her father was making his exit into 'civilian' life? More likely the military just conditioned its 'lifetime' officers with a common personality after the first decade of service.

Deunan weighed her need to make him understand, and her desire to not cause waves only hours on base. Briareos _needed_ repairs. She couldn't go and mess things up just as he was finally getting the help he'd been patiently waiting months for. "I like to think of myself as a make-do kind of person, commander. I don't think I expect an unreasonable degree of catering-to by the world at large. If anything, experience has taught me to anticipate the opposite. But I have limits on what I can tolerate, perhaps due to my background. I guess I'm not the sort of person who can stand by and watch when a crime is committed, sir."

The officer stared at her for another long minute, letting her stew as he considered her words. "You consider yourself an honorable soldier, Knute?"

"I try to be, sir." She shrugged. "Sometimes expediency wins, but when possible I endeavor to act as befitting my training."

"Your brother once told me much the same. Something your father taught you both, no doubt."

"He is a practical man, sir."

"Have you spoken to him recently?" Commander Fuller asked, expression lightening with momentary curiosity.

"No sir."

He turned his chair towards the window, considering the orderly traffic of men and goods through his base-city. Deunan bounced on her heels a little while he wasn't looking, alleviating some of the strain in her back. Her shoulders complained at having spent days squeezed awkwardly in the temporary cargo seating, and then being made to hold regulation posture while being grilled on her prior misdemeanors. "I'm not going to lie to you, Knute. I'm not thrilled by the idea of having a troublemaker on my books, but I'd also be lying if I said that we weren't short on officers of your particular field experience. You say you're willing to be tested? That's fine by me."

Turning back to her, he folded his arms across his chest and gave her a candid stare. "I'm giving the pair of you four week's probation. _You_ are to be assigned to a field specialist for jungle training. Your partner will join you as he is judged fit for combat by our esteemed medical practitioners. Based on your trainer's assessment at the end of the month we shall see whether I can make use of one or both of you here, or whether I will choose instead to ship you and your partner to someone with more time on their hands to deal with problem officers. Am I clear?"

"Thank you sir." She saluted him, grateful for even the weak show of support he was willing to give. "We won't disappoint, sir."

"Go see to your bunk assignment, then." He pointed to the door. "And Knute?"

"Yes sir?" Deunan turned back to him as he caught her with a final question.

"Stay out of trouble."

"Yes sir."

Feeling a huge weight lift off her shoulders she returned to the main room, to find everything laid out in nice easy stacks. Picking up the pen provided, she started signing her name to the various requisition forms. The younger officer chatted away at her while she worked, seemingly unconcerned with the fact she was only paying him a fraction of her attention. Either he didn't know the full measure of her discipline sheet the way his boss did, or he was just naturally that cheerful with everybody, even potential troublemakers. She had no idea.

What she did know was that this base was serious about providing for the immediate needs of new officers. Even as she was signing her life away, the kid was assembling what looked like a hotel luggage-truck's worth of kits for her and her man, uniforms, bedding, towels, boots, outer gear, anything and everything they'd need to start life afresh. She could have left Alaska with only the clothes on her back and _still_ emerged from the office with everything necessary for civilized life.

She marveled at the wealth of supplies at her fingertips, everything but guns, from the look of it. Ironically that was the one thing they'd been obliged to cut-and-run without. She tapped her pen against the desk to get the guy's attention as he zipped past for the twelfth time, trading finished forms for more kits. "Where do I go to requisition weapons for us? We're traveling light I'm afraid."

"Carrying guns around base without special permit isn't allowed at any rate." The junior officer smiled, ever cheerful. "But your new CO will see about getting your ID assigned to any pieces of artillery you're approved for when on patrol."

"And he is?"

"Captain Hernando Jamar." Her helpful little steward supplied as he retrieved yet more bales of supplies from shelves in the back of his domain. Deunan had to smile at the less than chipper way the kid said the man's name. Clearly not _everyone_ made him happy.

"Bit of a hard-ass is he?" She guessed when he returned.

Her companion shrugged. "He yells a lot. But I've heard he's really good. He's one of our oldest bush men."

"In age, or seniority?" Deunan joked, standing up to crack her spine, relieved to have done with the bulk of the papers. Briareos would have a fit when it came time for him to sign his share post-triage, but she'd taken care of all she could do on his behalf to make it easier for him. Eying the small mountain of gear, she spotted several bars of soap and began itching for a shower. With her base commander's assurance that her partner was in good hands, she was reasonably confident that he'd be taken care of. The guy presented at the genuine article. She was inclined to trust him. She'd get their rooming sorted, get cleaned up, and then go see what state her man was in before passing out. With any luck her new captain wouldn't be ready to see her before tomorrow.

The petty officer deftly scooped up the remaining papers and stowed them in a file for later. Pushing the now-top-heavy cart ahead of him, he gestured that she was to follow out the back entrance and down into an adjacent annex.

"He's been in the field here since before the war started. There were terrorist cells operating down here that needed to be flushed out occasionally, drug runners too. You'll see that this base is older than the war. You can probably tell this base was once a village, in fact… although the medical section is all new, top notch." He gestured to the blue signs on a hall that divided from their own at the next intersection. Deunan made note of it so she could retrace her path later.

"When do I meet him?" She forced her tired brain to log the necessary landmarks as they flashed past. The signs seemed to cover all the key essentials, but with the utilitarian same-ness of the hallways she could see herself quickly getting lost if she wandered too far from the main hub of the complex. An elevator carried them up several floors and she gamely followed down another grey tile hallway. Deunan was so busy concentrating on the route she almost ran into the back of the man leading her.

"He's not due in for two days." Her host checked his clipboard. "He doesn't know you've been assigned to him yet."

"Surprise." Deunan muttered under her breath. Seeing the officer looking around, and at her, as if at a loss, she wondered what he was up to. "Something wrong?"

"I don't mean to be rude… but did you want two singles, or one double?" He winced as he asked. "Only because we have some double-rooms specially fitted for cyborgs, and I was going to give him one of those… But if you wanted to share you might find it a little uncomfortable? So I can put you in a single instead."

It took an effort to not knuckle the young officer's head. He had the perfect kid-brother act, standing there with his pink cheeks and chagrined smile. Deunan rubbed her neck, unable to cope with the over abundance of cuteness without more sleep, or food, to give her strength. "If you've got doubles that will work for my partner, I'll be glad to take a look. So long as there's a bed, chair, shower and toilet, I can adjust for just about anything else."

"Oh they're fully equipped, lieutenant." Her host protested earnestly, "It's just you might find things a little… heavy-duty. Not exactly comfortable for average folk like us, you know? Here, see for yourself."

Stepping into the room that he unlocked for her, Deunan looked around with a quiet sigh of contentment. They would have to find a way to impress their new CO, she resolved. The 'not exactly comfortable' bunk was easily the size of her old apartment. Two large beds dominated the room, each with footlockers underneath and a sturdy framed desk and chair at their foot. A private bathroom adjoining the room had locker-room tile from floor to ceiling, over half of it dedicated to the shower while the rest had the standard compliment of generously apportioned bathroom fixtures. Her eyes were drawn back to the beds without conscious effort. No narrow cots to for her man to have to squeeze into here! The full sized mattresses were easy to justify, if the average occupant was meant to be someone of Briareos' mass or larger. Either of the two mattresses would be plenty to hold both of them, or if she ever wanted to really stretch out, she could abandon him to his own devices of an evening and luxuriate on a bed of her very own.

"We'll take it." She told the waiting petty officer. "Water rationing in effect?"

"No ma'am."

"Meals are based on coupons? Or just general mess hall?"

"General mess at the canteen three times a day, if you're late there's always the 'town', but you pay for your meals there." He pushed his cart into the center of their new room and started unloading, passing her a binder full of information before starting on the rest. "Everything you need to get acclimated is in there. Please read the first section before the end of the day. It contains the basic guidelines for on-base life that everyone has to follow, emergency procedures and the like." Handing her an id card and pass-key he retreated with the empty rack in tow in order to allow her to unpack and make herself at home.


	2. Chapter 2

Half an hour cleared up the worst of the mountain of gear she'd been left with. Deunan took the liberty of unfolding one of the shirts intended for her partner and had to concede that it _looked_ big enough. Tucking his gear away into his closet and drawers, she stocked the bathroom with towels and weighed her options. Checking on Briareos was a priority, but so was a shower. She had a hunch he'd appreciate her being clean as much as she would. Food would also be key at some point but as she was too late for lunch, and too early for dinner, there was little choice but to wait. No sense wasting what little petty cash she had left on a snack when the mess was general admission.

Deunan couldn't help but luxuriate in the shower for ten minutes longer than strictly necessary. The novelty of unrationed hot water was enough to sell her on her new home even without the other amenities. Pulling on a new uniform she considered her much improved reflection in the mirror and set out with a will, retracing her steps to the main corridors and then following the signs towards the medical zone. Several helpful orderlies steered her through the maze of lobbies and wards until she found the one she wanted. Showing badge and introducing herself, Deunan was waved in without any of the suspicion that she had been expecting.

Briareos was snug as a bug in a room overlooking the perimeter wall. She knocked on the door frame to get his attention, holding out her arms to show off her new jungle-colored fatigues as his extendibles swept forward with his interest in her arrival. Deunan opened her mouth to tell him all her news thus far, but the thought was derailed on realizing that he wasn't _quite_ all there for her.

"What happened to your arm!" She stared in alarm as he waved hello to her with his good hand. His other arm was flat out missing. The plates of his shoulder were peeled off to reveal the complex nest of metal load-bearing armatures and the tightly packed cables that made up the bulk of his nervous system. Instead of a right arm, he had a tidily coiled mass of unplugged connectors hanging down from an exposed socket.

Deunan was reminded of the dolls she used to play with as a child with the arms and legs that could be 'popped' by accident when she tugged too hard. The fact that Briareos was put together much the same was disturbing as hell. "They took your arm off!" She couldn't help but state the obvious.

His extendibles tilted sideways in his classic 'well duh' expression. "It was done for, they say. A bunch of the circuitry was totally fried. Those hacks up north caused more damage than they fixed, from the sound of it."

'But… your _arm_." She crossed the room, leaning over his good side to kiss his cheek absently. Perkier, and chattier, he was definitely feeling better, missing pieces aside. "You _need_ that arm… they're repairing it right?"

"They're prepping a new one for me. Initial test fit is scheduled for tomorrow morning." He shrugged, not at all upset. "These guys are the real deal, girlie. They say there used to be a half-dozen ZIIF suit-based 'borgs here on base up until a little while ago. They didn't even bat an eye when I asked if they could find me spare skin plates to replace the ones that have gotten banged up over the years. From the sound of it, they could rebuild me from the core out, if it came to it."

"Yeah well, I'd rather they just stuck with the essentials." Deunan settled herself on the mattress next to him, glad to see he was in good spirits. He shifted a little to give her more room. Up close it was immediately apparent that two of his 'eyes' were new as well. His scratched lenses were gone the way of his bad arm. The easily interchangeable parts had been swapped while she'd been showering. The local brain-cases won a burst of approval from her for their thoughtfulness. She left off remarking on it in favor of getting the serious news out of the way first. "I met with the base commander. He pretty much told me that we're to justify our existence in the next month, or be prepared to ship out to the junkyard with the rest of the trash."

Briareos shrugged, the gesture lopsided for lack of a limb. "Not like we were expecting anything else. You squared away?"

"_We_ have accommodation fit for a king." She laughed, happy to be able to surprise him with good news to balance the bad. "This place is practically a hotel compared to the Western Division standards. How does a private, cyborg sized bathroom sound to you?"

"No kidding." He wrapped his good arm around her waist, squeezing her companionably at the announcement. "You say _we_? Who did you blackmail for a double?"

"Nobody! They asked if we wanted one, and I said yes!" Deunan laughed again at how easy it was. "We're assigned to some bush master for advanced training, but he doesn't show up for a few days yet… so not only do we get you working again, but we actually have some down time as well! Isn't it crazy?"

Briareos tilted his head, philosophical about their windfall. "I guess we were due some good luck after our last few months."

"There's something about this place I don't quite like though." Deunan leaned back against his shoulder, able to relax at last now that she was with him again. "For all their abundance of gear, I'm getting the impression that they're short on _people_. They _need_ us here… like, they're having a hard time keeping scouts in the field or something. Everyone's just too damn happy to see _you_ especially. It's a little freaky."

"Jungle fighting _is_ dangerous." Her cyborg shrugged again, thoughtful. "Don't stay on your toes, and you'll get eaten, or lost, forget about being shot at…"

"Did they tell you about what happened to the other cyborgs?" She bit her lip, looking over at him. "Six ZIIF suit equipped guys… all gone."

"It's worse than that." Briareos murmured, squeezing her waist again. "Apparently one went rogue… ran into the bush."

"Yeah I heard."

"Did you hear that _he_ is the one who picked off the other five?" Her partner added an additional twist on the gossip. She turned and stared at him in surprise. He nodded slowly. "There's a nut job out there in the trees, girl, a one-man-army. Him, along with some other really nasty Pacific Alliance military hardware, and the usual compliment of separatists, natives, drones, enemy cyborgs, and god knows what kind of wildlife. We're going to have our work cut out for us."

"We can handle it." She reassured him. "I'd like to see the expression on the face of the jungle critter that tries to take a bite out of _you_. As for the rest, we'll figure it out as we go. I don't mind enemies I can shoot at. It's the ones I have to salute that scare me."

"Too true." He agreed, tucking her close against his side.

"So you're staying here tonight?" She pillowed her head against his chest. "What if I promise to get you back here bright and early?"

"I've got exposed wiring, Deunan." He gestured with his chin to his missing arm. "Besides they want to run a few diagnostics on the rest of me for safety's sake. Do some panel beating, heck they're even offering to give me a proper grind and polish. No sense turning them down if they're willing to give me the executive special at no extra charge. You go ahead and explore a bit, come back and tell me what you find, ok?"

"Alright." She rubbed her face against his shoulder, making the most of her too-short visit. "I've got some rules and regs to read through anyway. I ought to do that before I blunder into trouble without even knowing it."

"Good idea." He kissed the side of her head and pushed her off the bed.

Deunan straightened her new uniform and gave his room a quick glance over. "I'll be back later with a book for you to while away the hours with, handsome. Maybe some flowers…"

"Book. Yes. Flowers. No." He stated, leaning back against his pillows.

"Picky picky." She teased him, letting herself out.

Gym, store, cantina, three different 'bars' for off duty soldiers, a library, movie house, and even a pool. Deunan spent several hours just getting the layout of her new 'town' in her head, constantly amazed by how functional it all was. There was even a bank of sorts, allowing her to investigate the status of her funds. The zero-balance was a nasty bit of news, but hardly surprising. The jokers running things in Alaska had taken her savings, as well as her ability to sleep without random nightmares catching her off guard. She had no doubt they'd done the same for Briareos. Her partner might be pissed enough to want to follow up, but she was inclined to let it go. She was collecting base pay _now_ , and if the money and lost sleep was the worst she'd suffered from her sojourn in that frozen purgatory, she counted herself lucky. Filing a complaint would be more trouble than it was worth. Anyone smart enough to know how to bleed transferred soldier's accounts dry would be able to cover their tracks.

Even the food was better than expected. Deunan didn't mind the curious stares from the friendly groups at the tables around her. Efficiently packing away her tray-full of dinner and ducking out before the speculation translated into action on the part of the men especially, she wasted no time in catching up on the calories she'd been missing out on. Another check on her partly-disassembled-partner, to bring him his promised distractions, and she'd ordered herself to bed. Pure exhaustion ensured that if her sleep was at all troubled, she didn't remember it on waking.

Exploring the selection at the library and doing a thorough circuit of the gym provided ample ways of filling the time in her free morning until Briareos was done with his preliminary work up. Bring him a small stack of fresh brain-fodder, she blinked to see he had not one new arm, but two. The new limbs had a markedly darker tone than his original kit, making it easy to distinguish where the change out had been made. Several other panels, including his rather battered old cheek-guards were replaced as well.

"I like the two-tone effect." She drawled as she admired his new look from across the room. "Makes you look like a panda though."

Distracted from his late lunch by her tease, he jerked his head in a 'come hither' gesture as he methodically munched through his steak. _His_ catering was better than the general mess-hall's menu down stairs, she noted idly. He hadn't been kidding when he said he was getting executive treatment. Setting her offering to his daily happiness beside him on the table she stole a piece of carrot off his plate and moved to the window to check out his view.

His room was high enough up that it could see out over most of the canopy, giving her a different perspective on their new home than she could get from ground level. Brightly colored birds occasionally moved between the trees, and small swinging shapes that she could only assume were monkeys did their thing in the distance. Having never seen one up close, other than at the zoo, Deunan was looking forward to seeing them in action in the bush.

"What do you see?" Her partner pushed back from his plate to join her, reading the spines on the borrowed books as he did so.

"Monkeys." She laughed, pointing out the distant grouping.

He snorted, draping an arm over her shoulder to tuck her against his side. "Damned nuisances. I can't deal with animals with opposable thumbs. They get into _everything_."

"I don't know. They're kinda cute." She grinned at his pragmatic snort of annoyance.

"You won't say that after the first time they steal your shoelaces while you sleep… or walk off with your spare sidearm."

"No way." Deunan looked up at him in disbelief. It was true that Briareos had seen considerably more of the world than she had, but she had a hard time believing he'd ever experienced either of those scenarios first hand.

"Ok, maybe not the shoelaces…" He relented with a squeeze to her shoulders, "But they'll definitely pick up anything not bolted down. And they're noisy fuckers when startled, which is a pain in the ass when you're trying to move around without getting shot at."

Deunan found that complaint far more likely and nodded in agreement. "I imagine it works both ways though…"

"Murphy's law. They never kick up a fuss when you _want_ them to." He refused to humor her sentimentality. "If we're lucky, they'll shy away from us and let us work in peace. If they cause trouble? I'm shooting the little bastards. To hell with 'environmental diversity.'"

"Bri!" She scolded playfully. "Don't you dare. Unlawful hunting of wildlife is prohibited! Section five part three or something like that… Didn't you read that binder I brought you?"

"Yeah. It made a great insomnia cure." He drawled, bending over to kiss her hair. "And it was section four, part two, wise ass. Policies regarding standard bush usage for all base inhabitants, right after 'no littering' and right before 'no brush clearing using fire'…"

Deunan rolled her eyes well familiar with her man's photographic memory for anything he read. It was easy being a rules dick when one could quote chapter and verse from memory after a single sitting. Still, as she was the primary beneficiary of his talent, she had no complaints. Reaching up she stroked his now smooth cheek, "Alright. I give up. No pet monkey for me. How's your day-spa treatment coming? I see you've had the hot towel and shave already… They still want to hold you here to finish your pedicure, or are you outpatient from now on?"

"Pretty much just waiting around for _you_, hellcat." He waggled his extendibles at her with his cheerful complaint, revenge for her teasing. "That happy little gopher from yesterday caught up to me right after you left last night with a stack of papers like you wouldn't believe. But thanks to a certain little woman's chicken-scratchings all over them, all I had to do was draw 'x' on all the signature lines and I was done in no time."

Waggling his antenna again, he let his voice slip into a forlorn whimper as he hammed for her amusement. "I've been ready to go for _hours_. They won't be able to polish me until tomorrow. Since I'm not quite so keen on the panda-look as you are, they're going to tweak the compounds in the mix in order redo my top coat to a consistent color while they're at it."

"So you just stuck around for the blue-plate lunch because…?" She pushed away from him to set her hands on her waist, more than willing to join in his playful mood.

"Because I don't know _where_ my quarters are? And I didn't want to get lost?" He sighed in long suffering acceptance of his lot in life as he wrapped his arms around her again. His feigned sorrow was considerably less believable when he slid his hand down to squeeze her ass in a quick tease. "I suppose I could have had an orderly show me, but why follow some loser in scrubs when I can look forward to a far more appealing backside leading the way?"

Deunan swatted his arm gently in punishment, feeling hugely relieved to have him back to his old self again. He'd been too quiet lately. Pain, exhaustion and paranoia had worn him down just as surely as it had her. This change of scene was just what they'd needed. And he hadn't even seen their room yet. She was confident he'd like it just fine. All they needed to rejoin the war effectively were some proper guns, and probably a machete or two considering the density of the bush.

It'd be nice to be able to concentrate on fighting for once instead of worrying about finding their next meal, or dealing with psycho politics on base.

888888888888

_*Adult themes warning for this section (skip ahead to ch3 if you want more drama / less romance)*_

"So… which bed is mine?" Briareos wasn't above joking after doing a thorough inspection of the room.

Deunan had to stifle her laughter at the pleased little noises he'd made on discovering his carryall neatly stowed away and his small collection of books shelved and ready for him. Lounging on the bed nominally on 'her' side of the room, she watched him check over the bathroom, and consider the view from their utilitarian window, before standing in the center of the room, content with his tiny domain.

"Which ever you like," she shrugged feigning ignorance of the fact that whichever bed he chose would be _their_ bed. "I'm not picky. But mind you, I'm not re-arranging everything in the closets. So which ever bed you pick, your _stuff_ stays over there."

"We're facing north." Briareos leaned against the window ledge and considered the room tactically. "That means sunlight will start over here in the morning… and end over _there_ in late afternoon…" He made a thoughtful noise. "Sun rise this far south is pretty consistent at around six-thirty… and you _do_ like sleeping in. But on the other hand, I can't stand trying to get an early night in when the sunset is right across the pillow…"

"I shouldn't be sleeping in anyway." Deunan twisted against the sheets, stretching her spine. "We've got a reputation of infallibility to rebuild, after all."

"Good point." He sat himself on the mattress next to her, reaching out to play with her hair. "Looks like we _both_ prefer this bed. Toss you a coin for it?"

"Ha ha." She shifted sideways to give him some room and tugged his arm until he took her up on the offer. A few moments of shuffling and Deunan could relax against her usual shoulder as she hadn't in weeks. His new arm might look different, but it moved, and felt exactly the same as it curled around her back. His large fingers rested lightly against her hip. "Good to have you back, baby." She nuzzled his t-shirt with a sense of contentment. "I've been worried about you."

"You doing alright?" He shifted to cuddle her with both hands. "You haven't been sleeping well."

"I don't find planes to be the most relaxing way to travel." She avoided his real question, not wanting to have a conversation about the things prowling around her nightmares. They'd fade soon enough without daily encouragement from real life. Or at least her current crop of shadowy fears would be replaced with ones more applicable to their new environment. "I'll be fine now that I have you to keep me warm again."

Deunan sighed happily as her man stroked her arm and side, plans of giving him the fifty-cent tour of the base forgotten in favor of just spending the afternoon curled up next to him. Still, he would probably be bored if all they did was lay around. He'd spent their first day on base stuck in the clinic. He deserved a chance to get out and stretch his legs too. Briareos' fingers drifted over her arm, seeming in no particular hurry to stop any time soon.

"Nice to have a little downtime when I'm not at risk of falling to pieces." He commented at last, hand sliding up her neck to ruffle her hair. She agreed with a nod, stretching out further against him, turning so she could drape an arm across his chest for a one-armed hug. "Anything on our docket before dinner?" Her partner asked idly, resuming his stroke over her once she settled, fingers drifting down along her hip and thigh. His other hand settled familiarly on her ass, a comfortable weight pressing her close to his bulk.

Blinking at the subtle cues Deunan felt stupid for not connecting the dots sooner. Staying in didn't necessarily _have_ to be boring, after all. Privacy, plus shower, plus repairs meant her man was probably in a 'let's stay in' kind of mood. Not entirely sure what kind of mood _she_ was in, Deunan decided after a minute that while she wasn't motivated enough to take the initiative, she had no problem being talked into fooling around if _he_ was interested.

She petted the portion of his chest beneath her outstretched fingers, "We've got nowhere to be until our new boss pops out of the woodwork, handsome. Which could be as soon as tonight or as late as the day after tomorrow. I was thinking I could give you the lay of the land at some point. But other than going to the gun range, or doing some sets at the gym, we're too broke to do anything else until payday. Eventually they'll have to assign us some duty shifts to keep us occupied, but they're insisting our captain will materialize before long."

"Seeing some sights and working the kinks out sounds like a good idea to me." Her cyborg rolled her deftly onto her back, shadowing her with his larger frame as he propped himself on one arm and gazed down on her. "But I was thinking… maybe we could do a little goofing off _here_ first?"

Briareos ran a gentle finger along her neck, following the line of her partly buttoned uniform shirt to the edge of her collarbone and back again. She shrugged against the blanket, game for whatever, as his caress returned to go a little further down her chest. Deunan sighed at the simple pleasure of his hand as it cupped her breast through her shirt. He shifted back to allow himself room to lean down and nuzzle her hair.

"You alright?" Her partner asked again, hesitant at her lack of enthusiastic response. "You're not yourself lately."

Deunan frowned, recognizing he was right. Normally she would have been all over him as soon as the door closed. If she honestly asked herself _what_ she wanted, it was just to have him wrapped around her, familiar and safe. Sex, while interesting, wasn't her primary motive for the day.

She felt old upon making the realization. She was twenty-one to his thirty, she ought to have been _all_ about the sex. It had to be the stress of the past few months catching up to her.

"That place…" Deunan confessed softly. "I think that place was starting to grind me down, Bri."

"No shit." He paused his lazy seduction in order to pull her up the bed, settling her against the pillows instead of his chest. Sliding his hands under her back and neck, he pressed an undemanding kiss against her mouth, moving on to her jaw and neck before she could muster an appropriate follow through. "That place was sick right to the core, girlie. You think I couldn't see what it was doing to you? We made a mistake ever going there in the first place. Plain and simple. I was warned that Juno Base wasn't on the up-and-up… but I was stupid and thought we could handle it…"

"You needed those repairs…" She shook her head, refusing to blame him. "We thought it was our best chance to get them. We had no idea they couldn't deliver on their promises. If people knew how bad it was there, it'd have been shut down years ago."

"It's possible we're the first to ever transfer out…" He agreed grimly. "And to think, all it took was you threatening to castrate the CO. I've never seen someone so cooperative."

"That was after you'd snapped the top to his desk by 'leaning' on it." She reminded him with a grin. "Anything I did to threaten him beyond that was just gravy. He was already convinced he wanted us gone. Which I might point out, he did _not_ put in our files? My litany of sins, at least as far as our current commander knows, ended with the 'friendly fire' charge we racked up after the lighthouse incident, which – you will be glad to hear - has been dismissed… No reason given."

"Cutting his loses." Briareos growled softly. "If I could get a hold of your father, I'd put a bug in his ear about the whole thing and let him bust that place wide open. It's going to take at least a full Colonel to pull back the curtain and really see how deep the rot goes. And I'm not cozy with any Generals."

"Not our problem, baby." She shook her head resolutely. "The sooner I stop thinking about snow, the happier I'll be."

Briareos leaned in to kiss her again. This time she was ready for him. Deunan wrapped her arms over his neck and met him half way, welcoming his tongue with her own. He lowered her back against the pillows as he guided her desperation into something a little more relaxed. "Easy girl." He nuzzled her ear as she caught her breath. "If it's a distraction you want, I'll happily oblige you."

"Good." She squeezed his shoulders, "Because I could use a little distracting right about now."

His low chuckle was answer enough for her. Reaching down as he thoroughly kissed her, she pulled his t-shirt loose from his slacks, tugging it away from his waist in fistfuls until she could slide her hands along his warm metal skin. Briareos retaliated in kind, managing her belt and zippers easily enough but soon stumped by the smaller buttons of her uniform top. She laughed at his grumble of annoyance, rolling away from him to strip off her over-shirt and t-shirt in quick succession. She paused in reaching for her bra at the feel of him tasting the base of her neck, fingers working the eyehooks for her and pushing the straps forward over her shoulders.

"You smell good." He murmured against her hair as he dragged the loose fabric down her arms to drop forgotten on the bed. Letting a hand slide from her stomach up to her collarbone once done with his chore, he pulled her close, pillowing his wrist between her breasts as his fingers followed the contour of her neck.

Rolling slowly backwards Briareos nibbled her neck and shoulder playfully as she let herself drape over him. Even with air conditioners working throughout the base to keep humidity to a comfortable level indoors, their room was warm enough that she didn't particularly mind the loss of her shirt.

With the hand he'd been leaning on now free, he was more than willing to make good on his promised distraction. Arm draping over her stomach as he worked a hand into her open trousers and under the elastic of her panties to cup her hipbone, he gave her a gentle squeeze. Deunan arched her back as his fingers drifted lower, through her short thatch to tickle her mound instead.

Not even he was good enough to get her pants off one-handed however. She grinned to see he was stumped on how to proceed without relinquishing his hold on her. Taking pity on her lover, she reached down and hooked her thumb over the band at the waist of her underpants, shifting until she could slid them off her hip on the one side. He caught on about as quickly as she thought he would, matching her movement on the other side until her clothing was bunched around her thighs rather than actively in his way.

Briareos made a happy noise against her ear as he resumed his earlier petting, sliding his hand up the newly exposed skin of her leg cupping her mound a second time. Fingers deftly mapped the entrance to her box as he tested her interest in going further. Deunan snorted in amusement at how eager he was, a far cry from his recent pain-induced standoffishness. Her body warmed slowly to his touch, arousal inevitable as she arched and sighed against his chest. Lifting her arms over her head, she caressed his jaw and neck, returning the attention he was paying to her throat in kind. Her cyborg nuzzled her hair as his stroking fingers dipped deeper into her pussy, gathering the pooling excitement he found there on his fingertips and rubbing it slowly along her clit. A shiver of pleasure made Deunan bite her lip as her body woke to his efforts with a more serious heat.

"Bri." She murmured as she shifted against his chest, tilting her face to encourage more of his kisses. The hand pinning her shoulders shifted as well, his need to touch her out weighing his desire to hold her to him. Deunan wondered at what he thought about when he reverently drifted his palm over her breasts and down her stomach, petting the length of her torso seemingly without agenda. His absentminded touches warmed her just as surely as the deliberate efforts of his fingers nestled between her legs. She shivered again as her need increased, no longer indifferent to the idea of sex now that he'd inspired her. Bucking her hips up into his stroking touch, she twisted against him until she could catch his mouth again.

"Want to touch you too, sexy beast." She reminded him gently when she pulled away to catch her breath. He snorted in amusement at her prompt, but wasn't above helping her to sit up, shed her pants, and turn over to straddle his large frame. Never without his hands caressing some part of her, she smirked down at him as she rubbed his t-shirt clad chest.

"Too much clothing." She critiqued, grabbing fistfuls of the cotton and coaxing him to sit up a little so she could pull it off of him. Deunan dropped the unwanted fabric to the floor before turning her attention to his pants. Belts and buckles and zips gave way before her nimble fingers. Sliding down between his legs, she let her lips follow the retreating edge of his boxers as she pulled them over his hips, nuzzling and mouthing the smooth plate between his legs as he rumbled happily and stroked her hair. Finally she sat at the end of the bed and pulled her socks off, amused as always that there was never truly a good time to deal with the humble accessories in the heat of the moment.

Briareos sat up and settled himself behind her again as she worked on the last items of her clothing, kissing her neck and shoulders earnestly, fitting his hands around her waist. Barely had she finished stripping down before he pulled her back against his chest and into the center of the bed. He was definitely in a 'staying in' kind of mood, she laughed to herself as he wrapped her in his arms a second time, encouraging her to sprawl as if boneless against him and let him have his lazy lustful way with her. Deunan considered humoring his desire to 'test out' his new hands. But she really did want to do more than just lie there staring at the ceiling. Another time perhaps, she'd play cat to his caressing fingers. For now she wanted, wanted very much, to curl up with him beside her and do the 'glad you're back to your old self' sex thing in earnest. If afterwards he was willing to humor her and let her cling a bit before they went out? It'd be the best day she'd had in a long time.

Pulling away from him, she flipped herself over, batting his 'helping' hands away so that she could get a good look at him with his shirt off. The replacement panels covered his entire shoulder on the one side, but only segments of his chest on the other. Glancing behind her she found his haphazard color pattern continued down his legs as well, scratched and dented parts easily swapped for better ones by the skilled techs.

Deunan shook her head, seeing why he was hoping that a resurfacing of his old kit would give him some sort of standardized color. He did look a little silly with random bits and pieces not matching up.

He _felt_ fine, however.

She slid her hands along his chest, up to his shoulders and back to his stomach again, liking the smoothness of his new plates beneath her fingers. Her partner snorted in amusement as she repeated the touch along both his arms. His amusement derailed into heated silence as she drew his new fingers into her mouth one at a time, tasting them briefly before kissing the palms of his hands, bending over him to kiss his mouth as well. His arms caught her around the waist, holding her close for a second kiss hot on the heels of the first. Otherwise he seemed happy to let her lead. Ironic really, since what she really wanted was for him to take over.

"Bri?" She rested her forehead against his neck, feeling weird for having to ask. "Do something for me?"

"What do you need, hellcat?" His hands stroked her spine as she rested against him. Briareos picked up on her strange mood and slowed down, more tolerant of her craziness than she ever deserved. Ready and attentive for whatever she asked him to do.

"I just want something… uncomplicated." Deunan pressed a kiss into the cables of his neck, enjoying being able to touch him for the sake of it. "You know how you're always teasing me about slowing down and taking it easy for once?"

"Yeah?"

"I want slow and easy." She laughed softly at herself for the unusual demand. "Can you do that for me?"

Briareos rolled her again, pressing her back onto the bed as he shifted onto his side. She smiled at his concerned head-tilt, agreeing that it was hardly a characteristic request for her. "Slow and easy." He repeated thoughtfully. "Deunan..."

"Please." She pressed her fingers to his lips, cutting off yet another inquiry about her wellbeing. "Don't."

"Alright." He agreed softly, not entirely convinced, but willing to humor her. "Alright girl, you win."

Deunan closed her eyes and sighed in contentment as he moved against her with no further prompting. His hand stroked her side, cuddling her close as he stripped off the plating covering his groin and then coaxed her to drape her leg over his thigh. Another small shift, and his member was snuggled between her legs, seeking her heat blindly as he slowly teased himself with the feel of her waiting body. Deunan reached down to help him. Giving his shaft a few loving strokes for good measure as she played the part of guide, setting him on course for the depths he sought. Rocking her hips to meet his, she slid her hand up his chest as it became unnecessary. His length slid into her without need for further dalliance.

She pressed a kiss against his breastbone as his arms encircled her back, supporting her against his initial thrusts, all but blanketing her as he staked his tender claim. It was hardly their usual wild ride. She rested her hands against his arms, fingers curling reflexively in time with his rocking motion. It was still good though. And more importantly, for at least a little while, she could let go of her reflexive need to be in control of things. She trusted Bri. He was there when she needed him. Relaxing in his arms, she let her mind drift for the first time in weeks, not afraid of where her idle thoughts would take her. Nightmares and paranoid what-ifs had no foothold now. Bri was back on the job. She didn't have to do the solo-survival thing here. Instead she almost laughed at the weird fragments of memory stirred up by her partner's slow sweet strokes within her.

Miles and years away from the ocean, the scent came to her with odd clarity. She was sixteen again, and he was her handsome, sexy, terribly knowledgeable 'first'. Deunan remembered perfectly the feel of his hands as they curled around her shoulders, all callus and quiet strength, his blunt nails tickling her arms as he guided her into a comfortable sprawl against him. Cuddled close on that empty beach, autumn chill in the air beyond the confines of their little nest of blankets, he'd taken her into his arms and lay claim to her in the culmination of years of hopeful plotting to 'catch' him on her part.

She hadn't known what to ask for then, or even what she'd _gotten_ when it was over and done with. Too naive to do more, for all her so-called worldliness, she'd just hung on and enjoyed the pleasure he offered her. She shook her head at her former innocence. Looking back, the way he'd held her had been not unalike what he was doing to her now. Deunan turned her head against his chest, resting her cheek against his false-pectoral as she rolled her hips along with his gentle stroke. Past blurred with present as she worked one arm between his mass and the mattress, slipping the other over his side to wrap both around him and squeeze him tight.

"Deunan." He breathed, letting her know he was with her even now.

She found her lost confidence somewhere between one breath and the next. Something within her clicked back together, repaired after weeks of uncertainty, much as her man had been. Deunan sighed in relief, squeezing Briareos harder as she surged against him with the pulse of desire rising from the pit of her stomach. His hands tightened on her hips in reaction to her body's change in tempo, feeling for her new rhythm and easily matching it.

"Deunan?" His question held a hint of laughter.

She hid her smile against his skin as she rode his more energetic thrusts. "Sorry, Tin-man, I seem to have changed my mind."

"I noticed." He drawled and shifted, planting himself firmly between her legs, as he found a new angle with which to drill into her. "Minx." His complaint didn't hold much water given the eagerness with which he acceded to her new demands.

From curled on her side to pinned beneath him as he knelt between her thighs and pulled her up against him, Deunan laughed from the shear joy of feeling him thrust deep and strong. _This_ was what sex was supposed to be for them. She squeezed his arms as she arched to match his demanding hips, feeling him cresting within her even as her own nerves were beginning to sing. He came with a frustrated curse, unable to wait as he fell victim of the sweet friction between them. She rode his wild thrusts with minor disappointment, the liquid heat he left within her doing its part to pull her upwards to her own limit.

Briareos shook his head in tired humor as his shaft softened, unable to continue to do its duty by her. Not above begging, Deunan whined as he pulled out, feeling the loss of him right when she needed him most. "Please baby." She mouthed his shoulder urgently, the sudden lack of stimulation causing her to ache. "Bri…"

"I've got you, crazy hellcat." He nuzzled her hair as he shifted against her, hiking her body up higher against his chest as he slipped two fingers in from behind to pump her in place of his cock. "Have I ever let you down?" Briareos' fingers matched his earlier pace without hesitation, the abrupt resumption of the rough thrusting in her channel enough to make her toes curl. Deunan arched and twisted as her pussy throbbed with renewed pleasure, suddenly and utterly alight with her climax. He slowed as she did, easing her back to earth as she panted for air. Eventually coaxing her to stretch out next to him and cool off.

"Better?" He asked mildly after several minutes of watching her rest against the pillows.

"Definitely." She breathed, wrapping her arms around his neck. Hugging him tight, Deunan grinned to herself at how her body still tingled with aftershocks of excitement. "I owe you something really, really kinky later for putting up with me."

"Really, really kinky?" He mused aloud. "What, like we recruit two more girls and I get popcorn while you all make out with each other? What level of kinky are we talking about here?"

She punched him in the shoulder in mock annoyance. "As if I could find two other girls interested in getting naked for a sad-sack like you." Deunan grinned at his grumble of protest. "Honestly? I was thinking about sucking you off on the gun range later… It gets pretty empty down there after dinner. Your two favorite things… sex and guns…"

Briareos stared at her, his turn now to be dismayed. "That's not kinky, hellcat. That's down right dangerous. First of all? There is no chance in hell of me hitting my target - or any target - with you distracting me like _that_… so pity any other poor souls trying to get some useful training in. Second of all? If you flinch because a hot cartridge bounces out of the shell catcher and hits you, I'm not going to thank you for it."

Seeing his point, she laughed merrily. "Fine. How about the pool? Nice relaxing swim for me a soak for you… We can check your new skin for leaks. I'll pretend to be a mermaid, and you can be the shipwrecked sailor…"

"You'll drown yourself by accident." He vetoed her new scheme as firmly as the last. "You've never mastered holding your breath for more than a minute."

"Spoil sport." Deunan sighed cheerfully, not at all upset that he was. Teasing Bri with things he'd never do was half the fun. "Fine. As a last resort… I've still got a pair of handcuffs somewhere… want to cuff me, Officer Hecatonchires? I've been a really bad girl lately and could use some strict _discipline_ to keep me in line."

"You… You, woman, are _evil_." Her cyborg chuckled, kissing her shoulder to show he didn't particularly mind her teasing. "It'd serve you right if I did cuff you to the bed… and tickled the hell out of you!"

"You wouldn't dare." She stared at him in partly-faked horror. "I hate being tickled. You know I hate being tickled…"

He leaned over and distracted her with a kiss, "I dunno, it seems to depend _where_ I tickle you, I find." He murmured against her lips. "You seem to like _some_ tickling just fine, hellcat."

Feeling her blood warm at the intimate sound of his voice, she rolled her eyes at his innuendo. "Well _some_ tickling is alright, I guess… Within _limits_, if you know what I mean." She wasn't above baiting him back. He kissed her again for her punishment.

"You need anything else from me, Officer Knute? Or are we done for the afternoon? Because I think I'm going to nap for an hour before we case out the town and get some dinner." He nuzzled her cheek as she laughed at his suddenly professional tone.

Catching his face between her hands she stroked his new cheek guards. "Hold me a while?" She asked for the only thing she could think of. His huff of amusement, the unspoken 'as if you had to ask,' making her smile.

"Alright girl." He tucked her under his chin as he curled partly on his side next to her, leaving her pillowed against his shoulder and arm. Deunan wriggled closer, draping her legs over his thighs as she took up her favored napping position. His other arm draped carefully across her stomach, not putting too much weight on her as he tucked his fingers under her hip, securing her against his chest. "Comfy?"

"You're the best, Bri." She murmured as she relaxed against him, lazy and mellow as late-afternoon sunlight painted the far side of the room golden.

"Yeah I _am_ pretty great, aren't I." He mumbled teasingly as he pressed his face into her hair, finding his own customary napping arrangement. "You're lucky to have me, you know."

"Dummy." Deunan scolded as she tapped in an alarm on her watch, suddenly envisioning them forgetting dinner altogether in their comfortable curl. She was going to need all the fuel she could get if her man's frisky mood continued into the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

The easy mix of mostly-cybernetic-troops and normal personnel on base was kind of crazy, when observed from a distance. Deunan took an opportunity to laze a bit against the railing surrounding the roof of their housing block and appreciated the flow of people down below. The metallic gleam of custom molded face-plates and cranial attachments amongst the 'modified' soldiers gave the otherwise straight-laced military town a sort of eclectic, artsy feel. She was reminded of some of the more odd-ball neighborhoods in LA, especially the ones close to the city's crowded cybernetic-treatment clinics. Sure they came in all sizes and types, but people were still people. The sea of green patchwork uniforms added a cohesive theme to the crowd. She rested her elbows on the rail and inhaled the already-humid morning air, enjoying the chance to relax for another few hours. With no word yet from their soon-to-be-CO, there was hope that they could slack off until well past lunch without anyone scolding.

True to Briareos' predictions the sunlight had gotten both of them up plenty early despite their late night spent getting reacquainted. She smiled to herself as she idly stretched her calves. The limber, energized feeling she had woken up with more than made up for any lingering soreness left by Briareos' reaching for her repeatedly after dinner. It was a good kind of sore. The kind of ache that came from a person enjoying a prolonged workout doing something they enjoyed. Deunan bit her cheek to keep from grinning like an idiot, unable to pretend she wasn't happy with her current lot in life. She wouldn't complain if her partner wanted to make up for lost time. There was little else to do while killing time on base. If not for the call of free-breakfast, she had no doubt they'd have made the most of a lazy morning too.

Her man was prowling the edge of the roof, doing a curious circuit of the empty deck as he assessed the potential of their little town. Still getting his bearings after their brief stroll from room to mess-hall and back, he seemed as fascinated by the setup of their new home as she'd been. Stuffed to the teeth with eggs and toast, Deunan had declared that they might as well explore as their meal settled, but she hadn't had any particular agenda. Somehow Briareos' natural affinity to heights had led them to the top of the main annex, and possibly the highest point in the town. She shook her head at his knack for homing in on the best viewpoints. Her man's sixth sense for building layouts never failed to amuse her. It had to be something he'd picked up in his freelancer days, she mused, turning around to lean backwards against the rail and watch him instead. Snipers often used rooftops, didn't they? It made the speculative way her partner was peering down at the street as he walked a little morbid, when she thought about it that way. Still, he seemed happy enough, and the day was shaping up to be beautiful. Wishing she had money for a swimsuit, Deunan glanced over towards where the pool was housed.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Briareos rejoined her as she was distracted, folding his arms against the railing and following her look. "That's the sports complex, right?"

"Yup." She leaned sideways to bump her shoulder against him, enjoying his closeness. "Want to check it out?"

He shrugged and stood up, reaching to pull her along after him. "Sure." Deunan smiled up at him, pleased by his affectionate gesture. Either the relative privacy of their balcony, or his pleasure at being in working order again, or a little of both, she mused, but he was far more tactile than usual, almost cuddly. She enjoyed it even knowing it probably wouldn't last. They'd return to their usual routine soon enough.

Taking advantage of his mood, she coaxed his arm over her shoulders and pressed herself against his side as they rode the elevator back down to ground level. It was a good thing too, as it saved her from being an idiot and exiting too soon when the car stopped several floors short. Briareos held her in place against him when she absently moved towards the door, keeping her from walking face first into the pair of officers trying to come in. She stuck her tongue out at him as he sighed. "Idiot."

"Yeah yeah." Turning to greet their new arrivals she smiled wider to see that they too were cyborgs. The lieutenant wedged in on her left was half-masked by metal plates, one eye replaced with green tinted lens, the other still human. His friend's head was entirely plated, his kit giving him the overall look of some sort of exotic Hollywood spaceman. A smooth black band of sensor-shielding wrapped around his head where his eyes had probably once been, undoubtedly hiding both optics and a host of other equipment. The pair of officers were subtly giving her and Briareos a once-over but seemed content to share the elevator in silence. She couldn't help but force a little conversation, the polite disinterest they were feigning was grating on her nerves. "Hi guys. Great morning, huh?"

The pair nearly flinched at her cheerful non-sequitor, shifting so to see her better, then glancing at one another as if gauging which of the two of them would be the one to test the waters. The spaceman looked back towards her with a hesitant nod. "Weather forecast says it'll be clear right through until 15-hundred… but that's pretty typical."

"This place get a lot of afternoon showers?" Deunan asked, remembering something she'd heard about jungle climates and mid-day storms.

"All the moisture in the air has to go somewhere." The half-human man across from her chimed in, not looking directly at her.

"You two new here?" His friend was better at small talk.

"Of course they're new, Rege… I'd think we'd have noticed a guy like-" One-eye hissed, staring at the friendlier cyborg next to him. Rege-the-spaceman cringed slightly at the reminder, making a buzzing noise that clearly counted as a 'shut up before you say something stupid' alert.

Deunan glanced sideways at Briareos to see what he made of the odd pair. His posture was so stiff, he might as well have been a bit of furniture. She blinked, sensing his wary vibe. With two more floors to go she was determined to try again. The cyborgs were weird, but then they were new on base, they'd never settle in if they didn't try and make a few friends. "I'm Deunan." She smiled at the lieutenant with the spaceman-head, marking him as her most likely conquest. "This is my partner, Briareos. We just got here a few days ago, so I'm sorry if we don't know the ropes yet. Give us a week and we'll figure how to stay out from under foot."

"I-I'm Reggie." The guy's voice was utterly normal, despite his exotic looks. He rubbed the back of his platter-shaped head in chagrin. "I work in the ComShack. This is Bill. He's-"

"Motor pool, maintenance." The other officer cut him off mid-introduction. "You've got a Hecatonchires system, right?"

"Right." Briareos spoke for the first time, voice oddly soft when faced with the aggressive question. "What's it to you?"

"It means you can stay the hell away from me." Bill snapped, turning towards the doors as they slid back. "And stay away from my equipment too. You keep that communing-with-tech shit to yourself. I catch you messing with anything beyond the reach of your stupid little ears there, and I'll tazer your ass so hard you won't remember what you had for breakfast a week ago. I've had enough of you freaks wreaking havoc on base."

"Thanks for the tip." Deunan heard her partner murmur as she stood shocked at the verbal assault. More than a little tempted to go after the officer and ask him what his damage was, she felt Bri's hand on her shoulder tighten, wanting her to stay in place.

Reggie cringed again, moving to follow his friend at a slower pace. "Please don't take Bill personally. He's just… he had a bad experience… that's all. I'm sure you'll both do great here… I've got to go. See you around."

The door slid shut with them still in the car. Deunan reached out to press the stop-button, keeping them from inadvertently riding back up into the building as she turned to give Briareos a confused look. "What the hell was that all about…?"

"He had a bad experience." Her cyborg repeated, seeming lost in thought.

"Bri?" She waited for him to look over at her, acknowledging her existence. "You ok?"

"Yeah." He gestured that she might as well open the doors again, stepping out into the lobby when she did. "Forget it, girl. Let's go see what the gun-range is like."

8888888888

Briareos was taking his time chatting up an apologetic girl behind the hot-entrée counter, so Deunan left him to it with an arch look. The girl serving soup wasn't the first to startle as they'd walked past, but her reaction had been comically extreme. Deunan hadn't been close enough to overhear the small brunette's initial few words, only catching the commotion from the other side of the cafeteria as she picked up a cup of coffee. Seeing her man at the center of a small disturbance, she'd maneuvered back just in time for the blushing apologies. Briareos was doing his part to soothe the poor girl's nerves, making small talk as he accepted his belated entrée with grace. Far from being mean-spirited, Deunan was pleased at the sense that everyone participating or observing the every-day accident seemed friendly. Her nerves had been on edge ever since their weird encounter in the elevator, but nothing further had happened to encourage her paranoia. Throwing hot soup at a cyborg was hardly going to count as an act of serious hazing. At worst it would have resulted in a bit of laundry to do, and besides, the girl behind the counter was cute.

Gathering her utensils and finding an open table Deunan opted to get a head start on her meal rather than stand around and heckle her man. The idea that she might actually have to be on the look out for competition from other women for once almost made her laugh. Weighing the idea of scolding him for flirting against deliberately _not_ scolding him, just to see how long he could last before paranoia got the better of him and he produced an unsolicited apology she smirked to herself as she took her first few bites.

The large mess hall was half full with the early hour, volume building steadily as techs and soldiers came off shifts and grabbed bench space. Like everywhere, there were hundreds of small cliques and groups. Teammates, couples, officers each sitting with their chosen dinner companions as they discussed the day. She looked wistfully at some of the more cheerful looking groups. Once they were assigned steady shifts with a team, undoubtedly they'd make some friends, until then they'd just have to keep testing the waters until they found a group to settle in with. The food was good enough to keep her attention, and she'd always been a quick eater. This time at least she had her cyborg to keep her company. Keeping half an eye towards the kitchen, she waited for him to materialize.

"Knute?" A Latin accented voice caught her attention.

Turning, she was surprised at how close the man had gotten to her without setting her on edge. He moved damned quiet for such an old guy. His short beard wasn't so much a fashion statement, she decided after a moment, as it was a testament to his lack of interest in personal grooming when off base. His whiskers stuck out in random directions, giving him a rather eccentric appearance, and when partnered with his wrinkled uniform and sun-weathered features, made him almost a caricature of a Central American tin-pot dictator from pre WWIII. Still, he had more stripes than she did. Standing, she saluted sharply. "Sir?"

"At ease." He blinked and looked her over, barely taller than she was for all he was densely put together. "What the hell. I ask for scouts, and they give me muñecas...?"

"With all due respect sir," she grinned at his muttered commentary. "I can't help being a woman, but I promise I'm no porcelain doll. I'm here to work. Are you my captain?"

"Jamar." He offered her his hand as he introduced himself. Gesturing around the room he alluded to her isolation. "You eat alone? I'm surprised. Bonitas like you tend to get spoken for pretty quick. I thought I'd have to pull you out of a crowd."

"I'm new." She shrugged, sitting as he did. "They're probably still weighing their chances before closing in."

"And how _are_ their chances?" He snorted, folding his arms on the table as he studied her.

Deunan shrugged, deciding he wouldn't mind if she at least worked on her coffee before it got cold. "Lousy. But don't tell them yet. It'll spoil my fun."

Her new captain smiled at that. Looking around the room he let her get a few sips in before interrupting her again. "I was warned you were trouble."

"Only to people who bring trouble to me." She folded her arms in a mirror of his stance, matching his gaze with one of her own. "I hear you're the best at what you do."

"I'm still alive." He waved away her praise. "You have stalking experience?"

"Urban." She shrugged. "A bit of desert work, some forest."

"No jungle." He confirmed what she left unspoken. "You shoot?"

"Sure."

"Well?"

"Good enough." Deunan grinned, finding herself liking the man already. He might look like a kook, but he didn't waste words. He reminded her of a stray cat, eyes constantly on the move as he observed the flow of people around them.

"You ever climb trees?"

"Not since I was twelve." She drawled. "But I'm sure I'll get plenty of practice here."

"Yes." He agreed seriously. "You will. You have a partner… a cyborg, Greek."

"Briareos." She did him the favor of pronouncing her man's name for him before he was obliged to guess.

The captain gave her a grateful look. "He's not approved for duty yet, yes? Is fine. I'll start with you. Easier to train one than two."

"He probably won't need as much." Hearing her companion's snort of disbelief she couldn't help but joke. "I don't think he'll be climbing any trees…"

Deunan glanced towards the kitchen again, marveling at how the big idiot _still_ hadn't shown. Perhaps she _did_ have something to worry about? It seemed a little out of character for him. But then, being in a camp where most people were actively pleased to see him was a first for both of them.

Finally Briareos' obvious profile was visible against the backdrop of the crowded room. She put her fingers to her lips and whistled sharply to get his attention, forgetting for a moment that she probably ought to be more formal in front of their new boss. Her partner's extendibles dipped in dismay as he spotted her, clearly thinking something along similar lines. It didn't help that her alert for him was audible to the room at large. Several conversations nearby paused as people turned to consider the source and reason for the call.

"Idiot." He grumbled as he dropped his tray across from hers. He spared a glance for the man next to him and sketched a salute as he sat down. "Sir."

"Where were you kitted out?"

Briareos stared at the smaller man, as surprised as she was at the frequency of the question. Five years and the usual greeting was 'is he human' and suddenly everyone was asking 'where'd you get your hardware?' it was a little disconcerting. "'Cisco." He replied warily. "Why?" Deunan stole a crouton off his salad as he was distracted.

"Just curious." Their new captain shrugged, looking back and forth between them with a thoughtful look. "You have experience as a team…? Which of you leads?"

"We take t-"

"She does." Briareos calmly spoke over her. Deunan stared at him, wondering what he was up to. He ignored her in favor of shuffling his salad with his fork. "I'm marksman. My partner runs point position."

"Unexpected." Jamar leaned on his elbows, giving her cyborg an even more thoughtful look. She watched the staring contest between the two men a moment before giving up with a huff of annoyance and digging into her pasta.

Bri's poker face was built in, her new captain's was pretty impenetrable as well. If they wanted to spend the rest of the night trying to stare each other down they were welcome to it. Her dinner was getting cold. She paced herself so that she could sneak through at the end of the line and grab seconds if she wanted. Captain Jamar cleared his throat, breaking his contest of wills with Briareos in order to give her an amused look. "Seven tomorrow. Meet me in front of the armory, yes? We will get you some gear. Pack for a week."

Deunan nearly choked on her mouthful, eyes watering as she forced the suddenly rebellious food to go down her throat. "Excuse me?"

"We start tomorrow. Pack light. I expect you to keep up."

"You're taking her into the jungle?" Briareos stared at their new captain in surprise. "What about training?"

"Yes. Training." The man nodded. "In the jungle. Best place to learn. Seven sharp." He nodded at her and stood up.

Deunan coughed and cleared her throat with a gulp of coffee. "Yes sir."

"I'll be cleared for duty in two days, probably less." Briareos stood as well, still visibly frazzled by the sudden news of her departure. "Surely it makes sense to wait, to take us out together!"

"No." Captain Jamar shook his head, disinterested. "No is better this way. I take Senorita Knute now. We come back for you later. You should rest. Enjoy the base! We have many nice things here. Nothing like the jungle."

"With all due respect sir, I'm not here for vacation." Pointing to her authoritatively, Briareos took his stand. "Where she goes, I go. I'm coming with you."

"You are very protective." Their captain nodded. "That is good. A gentleman should always be considerate of ladies." He smiled in sudden wicked amusement as he made the same connection the base commander did. "She's your woman? Don't worry, I treat her like a daughter."

"That's not the point!" Her cyborg leaned on the table, not above using his size to try and get a psychological advantage over the smaller man.

Deunan rubbed her forehead, amused but mostly annoyed that he chose now of all times to do the cave-man thing. For once they were going to get thrown in the brig, and it _wouldn't_ be her fault.

Her cynical side cheerfully pointed out that she didn't have to feel bad now about being haunted by Alaska. If Briareos was willing to risk penalties for insubordination during his first day on the job out of concern for her, clearly he was still working through some issues as well. The senior scout seemed find it all pretty amusing, which was another point in his favor, but if her big idiot kept pushing, he was going to land in a heap of trouble.

"Bri. Stop." She pitched her voice low, knowing he could hear her, not wanting to make an even bigger spectacle now that half the room was watching.

He turned to her with his extendibles flat against his neck, annoyed at her for not taking his side. "It's _dangerous_. You're a rank novice at coping out there! He's going to bring you back in a bag, girl!"

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." She glared at him. "I'll learn faster in the field than I will running simulations. I always do. You know this. For god's sake, sit down and stop making an ass of yourself. I'll be fine. I trust him."

"I don't." Briareos sat down slowly, sensing that he was outflanked.

Jamar claimed several grapes off Deunan's tray, as he relaxed as well. "You need paint before I take you anywhere, lieutenant. A lot of paint. Taking you into the trees as you are now? I might as well put a target on my face. Too shiny." He dusted off his pants as he smiled at her again. "Bring a hat for that pretty hair of yours, chica. And sunscreen. Mañana?"

"Mañana." Deunan nodded, reminded of a cat again by the way the man managed to maneuver through the crowd and out the nearest exit. Eating quickly under her partner's grim stare, she made the best use she could of the time. Eventually he'd get over his shock and want to yell some more. She was determined that he do it somewhere a little more private. Pointing with her fork, she caught his attention and directed it at his plate. "Eat first. Argue later."

"Son of a-, _Deunan_..." He leaned forward, his voice barely above a murmur. "What the hell are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking I like this berth and I want to keep it a while." She hissed back, forking her pasta angrily. "We're walking a thin line as it is, idiot, do you want to get shipped out before our month is even _up_? Because you're doing a great job so far."

"He is going to get you killed." Briareos ate just as quickly as she could when he was of a mind to. Clearing his plate with efficient forkfuls he spared a moment to glare at the last few curious spectators from one table over. They promptly returned to their own conversation when faced with the possibility of being challenged by a pissed off cyborg.

"He is going to get you killed and I am going to be stuck here for _days_ while he's doing it. Hell, if he wants to camouflage me I can delay the damned topcoat the lab-jockeys were going to give me until we're ready to _leave_. No sense getting sanded and sealed twice in two days. Camo-paint takes maybe an hour to dry, four at most. I could be field ready by afternoon!"

"He says it's easier to train one than two." She shrugged philosophically, finishing of her coffee.

"Stall him. I don't want you out there alone."

"I won't be alone." Deunan reminded him.

Briareos growled impatiently at her. "Don't play coy with me, little girl. You _know_ what I mean."

"I can handle it." She stared at him until he met her eye. "Bri. I'm not _quite_ as incompetent as you seem to think I am! I did just fine up north without you, and I had even less training for _that_. Hell, the snow-combat was the easiest part of the whole thing!"

It was a low blow, dragging Alaska into the conversation, but someone had to do it. No sense talking around it as if it _wasn't_ what they were really arguing about. Briareos broke eye contact to stare at the table instead, taking the hit about as well as she expected. Three months of being given the run around by the quack-cyberneticists, stuck in a clinic as a test-monkey while she was out playing hide-and-seek with robotic tanks on a glacier, or getting the shit kicked out of her on base. He hadn't had an easy go of it either, she knew.

They both sucked at sitting on the sidelines. It wasn't like she wanted him benched again while she went off and did her thing, but it wasn't her call to make. At least this time her instincts told her they weren't being screwed over. Their captain was eccentric, but no more than _she_ was. Only two days and Briareos was already looking better than he had in years. Another week and he'd be like brand-new, and she'd be, if not elite, than at least not an embarrassed to stand next to him in the field. They'd be a team again in no time.

He rubbed his head, probably working through the same logic she was. "I just don't want to see you hurt, Deunan." He sighed quietly, defeated. "I… It makes me crazy when you go off alone. I worry."

"I know." She smiled sympathetically, reaching out with her foot to nudge his shin. "You think I don't feel the same, when you go off and do solos without me, tin-man? You think I like trusting some other jarhead to watch your back for me, knowing they'll probably fuck it up?"

"I should have killed every last one of them." Briareos confessed in a harsh whisper, fingers sliding along the edge of the table, still thinking about Alaska. "They de-"

Deunan pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him before someone overheard something they shouldn't. "Shh." She shook her head forbidding him from slipping further into the black mood. "I know."

Strange how a man with no eyes, and no expressions to speak off could give her such a sense of frustrated anger. Suddenly she didn't care if she _was_ giving the guys seated around her a show. Knowing Briareos needed her was more important. Catching his cheek in her hand, she rubbed her fingers against his new skin plates, letting him feel the truth of her in front of him rather than whatever his grim imagination was stuck on. It was when he talked like that she was forced to remember that buried deep under his laidback demeanor was a guy who could, and would, kill for her without remorse. "I didn't want vengeance, baby. I just wanted out. We got out. They can stay in that hell and freeze forever, for all I care. If we ever run into any of them again… we'll shoot them and apologize for the equipment malfunction later, ok?"

It said a lot about his mental state that he allowed her public display of affection. Turning his face slightly into the pressure of her fingers he breathed slowly, forcing himself to relax. Deunan sighed as well, playfully patting his face as he pulled himself together. "So come on, marksman. Let's stretch our legs a bit, and then you can tell me what to pack, alright?"

"Before these idiots start making popcorn and heckling, you're saying?" He acknowledged the rubbernecking from the table closest to theirs.

"Something like that." She nodded and stacked her dirty dishes in a pile on her tray. Briareos signaled that he was done too, his mood perking up as he following her to the tray-drop and out the door. With the whole of the tiny town to explore and a few hours to kill, Deunan stuffed her hands in her pockets, adopting her usual quick stride as she picked a direction at random.


	4. Chapter 4

The base had one last happy surprise in store for her before she was obliged to leave it behind for a few days in the wilds. Her captain lead her to a nondescript barn of a building near the main gates and held the door open with a wolfish grin.

"Oh my god, you can't be serious." She felt like a kid in a candy store on being ushered into the 'equipment archive' of the main armory. Weapons of every shape and size imaginable gleamed in the subdued light, nestled in their racks and cases. Her mouth watered at the shear volume of choices.

The officer in charge of the collection snorted at her slack-jawed awe, clearly having seen it before. "Anything without a tag on it is available. Tagged weapons already have assignees. You want me to set you up with a standard kit? Or should I let you browse…"

"Let her choose as she thinks best." Her captain chuckled at her appreciative stare, signaling that the officer in charge of the armory could fetch his gear. "They have quite a collection, chica. Why don't you take a look? Pick such things as you think you can use on our hike, yes?"

"You testing me already?" Deunan looked over at him with a smile. Seeing him look innocently ceiling-ward rather than meet her eye, she picked a likely looking aisle and let her fingers run along the rack as she paced the array of small-arms.

Old guns, new guns, pellets, bullets, darts and even a small selection of energy pistols, she quickly vetoed the more showy pieces in favor of some old friends. A replica Colt found its way into her hands, so similar to the one her father wore that she couldn't resist the chance to pick it up and eye along its barrel. It was easy to visualize the serious holes she could make in an enemy combatant with the handgun, but she also remembered its hellish kick. She'd do some damage, but her shoulders and wrists wouldn't thank her after the first clip was empty. Setting the gun back on its rack, she reached for a pair of Browning Mark-12s, familiar from years on the force. The weapons were lighter than the Colt and fit easily in her hands. Looking around, she spotted an assortment of holsters hanging from hooks at the end of the aisle and found two that suited her.

The next aisle over contained a full supply of the standard-issued semi and fully automatic weapons. Not particularly choosy, she hefted the first mid sized gun she saw that was familiar and slung its strap over her shoulder. The rows contained weapons of increasingly heavy caliber all the way back to the wall. Catching sight of a lethal looking silhouette in the distance, Deunan strode past the belt-loaded machine guns to the final rack and looked above it to the weapons so large they earned custom fixtures on the wall to hold them. Unable to help herself she raised a hand to stroke the satin-smooth barrel of the oversized multi-gauge rifle. The thing looked like it ought to be able to aim and shoot itself it had so many handholds and sights. Seeing loading points for bullets, shells, incendiaries, and what even had to be a clawhook-and-compressed-air cartridge she whistled to herself at its potential. Glancing at the main grip, she noted it wasn't tagged.

"Just you wait, sweetie." Deunan murmured to herself. "I know someone who will probably _love_ taking you for a test drive."

"You want to take _that_?" A voice at her shoulder teased her. Turning around, Deunan snorted at her captain's critique.

"I wouldn't even know where to begin getting it down." She disagreed. "But if I can put it on layaway for my partner, that'd be grand."

"You pick his guns out for him?" The bearded officer grinned wider. "Such a big fellow to be bossed around by such a little girl… Let him choose his own toys, lieutenant. You just worry about yourself. You done? Don't forget you have your pack to carry too. Extra rounds, water, a sleeping roll…"

Deunan gave him a look, wondering what the hell he thought she'd been doing for the past year. She'd been infantry after all. A certain amount of walking-with-gear was part and parcel with the job. Instead of pointing out the obvious, she took a breath and let it go. "Knives?"

"There." He pointed across the room, seeming to be entertained by her lack of reaction.

Finding her way to the section she wanted, Deunan quickly chose two combat knives to fit in her boot sheathes, and moved towards the bush knives when a gleam of white caught her eye. The set of slim throwing knives were carefully stowed six to a side on a Kevlar belt. She picked it up, hefting its weight before drawing one of the polished blades free for inspection. It felt lighter in her hand than it looked, either a titanium or poly-carbon composite similar to her 'borg's skin. The edge was sharp enough to score the shelf just from incidental contact. Deunan bit her lip wanting them despite their lack of obvious utility. Seeing that the holding belt had the ability to snap in half, turning it into two smaller arm-bands, or with an adjustment to the straps, a band that could be worn around a thigh, she decided why not, and added the set to her armload.

"Bullets." She stated firmly to Jamar when he opened his mouth to tease her again. Her captain raised his eyebrows at her instead and pointed silently back to the counter where the NCO was barcoding a small pile of weapons. The man didn't bat an eye at her armload, gesturing to where she could set it down on a clean portion of the work surface.

Deunan watched as each of the pieces of gear was assigned to her, wondering whether the second handgun would be necessary on a training op. Fewer guns meant she could carry more bullets, and it was unlikely that they'd be doing any heavy fighting. Glancing around the room her eye went back to the collection of knives, remembering her impulse of a moment before. She bit her lip with indecision before turning to her commander, "Do I need a machete?"

"Do you?"

"I have no idea. That's why I'm asking." She kicked herself for forgetting her formalities. "Sir."

Just because her captain looked like a kook, didn't mean she could treat him like one. Deunan hoped she hadn't said anything too out of line, since breakfast. He hadn't acted like she had. If anything, he was just as bad at the formalities of rank as she was. If he was going to call her by random Spanish terms of endearment every other sentence, he ought to give her leeway if she slipped and swore at him from time to time. It was only fair.

"Call me Hernando." He suggested, his eyes twinkling. "I don't get pretty girls calling my name often. It will give me a thrill, yes?"

"If you say so." She gave him a wary look, suddenly not certain whether he was teasing her or not. Her new CO had seemed pretty accepting of the idea of her in a partnership with Briareos the night before, but she'd dealt with plenty of men who'd expected her to be accommodating regardless of her relationship status.

Hernando merely shrugged at her, as playful as ever. "You're to be a ranger, not a farmer, usually we leave clearing bush to others. No point in leaving a big trail everywhere you go. It's like saying 'Here I am! Aqui! Come and get me! But still, I will show you how it is done, should you have a need. Shall I pick for you? Something nice and light for the lady?"

"Sure. Knock yourself out." Deunan replied, watching in disbelief as he wandered over to the assortment of blades. Turning back to her collection-thus-far, she stacked up the paper boxes of ammunition and estimated the total weight of her kit. Reluctantly she set one of the handguns back on the counter, promising herself to take it another time. Donning the knives, and machine-gun, then her pack, she checked that all the straps and belts weren't in danger of getting tangled.

When her unlikely captain re-appeared, she accepted his offered selection with interest. Made of steel, the blade slid easily out of its metal sheath, wide and flat but with enough of a point on it that she wagered she could still stab as well as slice. It was well balanced and was a good weight in her hand. She nodded to herself at its no-nonsense utility. Not meant to be used in combat, it had ties along the edge of its sheath to attach to the bottom of her pack, next to her bedroll. She secured it in place and shouldered the new load to see how it felt. The weight was noticeable, but not beyond her ability. Deunan crouched and twisted, making sure there was nothing painful or out of place in the tightly-packed bag.

The soldier at the desk took inventory by the simple expedient of waving a sensor wand around her body, recording the necessary numbers off her weapons and id tag to ensure that what she'd claimed would stay hers for the near future.

"You're responsible for your gear while in the field." Hernando pointed out the obvious again. "But when you come back to base, all gear is dropped here. They will clean and repair small things in day, longer and you can get a replacement if you wish. Anything you lose? Comes out of you pay." He grinned. "My advice? Only carry cheap things into the jungle if you are feeling forgetful, yes?"

"Do I get a credit on my account for extra weapons I bring home?" She smirked.

"Perhaps." He nodded, unconcerned with her willingness to challenge him. "Depends how good the weapon is…" Gesturing to the wall, and the cyborg-sized heavy artillery she'd been admiring earlier he huffed in laughter. "Bring one of _those_ home, chica, and _I_ will pay you. Now, if you're ready? We go."

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The world beyond the base was like something out of a nature documentary. Deunan gamely followed where the senior officer led, under branches and over creeks, into a maze of trees and mosses. It was gorgeous, right up until she saw her first glint of metal caught in the shady canopy overhead. The half rotted-out remains of a fallen scout plane reminded her that tropical-wonderland or not, the place was still a war zone. Somehow Hernando put up with her rookie mistakes without pulling his beard out in frustration. She didn't get stung by the random scorpions, and avoided walking through the swarming fire ants. She didn't shriek like a little girl on encountering her first absurdly tropical-sized spider, although Deunan gave it serious consideration on realizing the fucking thing was large enough that she could see it _blinking_ as it watched her. Silently she dared even Briareos to brush off a face-first encounter with one of the arachnids with his usual bored demeanor.

Momentary bursts of shock and stupidity aside, she felt as though she was doing pretty well. Setting herself to memorizing the elements of the jungle her commander bothered to point out, she was determined to be a good student to make up for her lack of experience. Deunan could already feel the sunburn starting on the back of her neck by the end of her second day.

Still the trees! She sat on a massive hummock of roots and oiled their guns as Hernando prepared dinner. Everything around them was vertical, trunks and branches forming a green barrier to her eyes for kilometers in every direction.

Deunan had seen the maps and still couldn't believe it. From ocean to mountains, and down south through the isthmus, the forest theoretically stretched all the way to the still-radioactive wastes of southern Brazil. If not for the lousy quality of the wood, people could have rebuilt whole cities with the timber available. Then again, according to the base handbook, these trees were one of the few things left on earth keeping the ozone intact after the last two world wars. Deunan shook her head at how everything was interconnected, and accepted her plateful of beans and rice with a nod of thanks. War number five, she was grimly happy to observe, didn't look like it would go nuclear. Although she knew that all the governments were eyeing each other still. As her captain wasn't big on small talk, they ate in relative silence. Familiar with the process of field sanitation, she took over the plates as he kicked out the fire and gave a pithy lecture on the local bat-culture.

A quick stroll through the dusky trees as her captain showed her the basics of night-marching in the jungle, and they returned to camp. Exhausted, she hunkered down under her poncho, mimicking him despite the heat. Hernando's sixth sense for the local climate wasn't to be beaten. She awoke to the sound and scent of rain. Deunan couldn't help but be soothed by the steady pour of water over leaves, despite the inherent danger in not being able to hear enemies clearly. Tucking her chin to her chest she trusted that their campsite wasn't near anything of strategic value to the enemy and drifted back to sleep.

Her third day in the jungle consisted of principally physical tasks. Running, jumping, climbing trees; she felt rather like she was being paid to play, incidental contact with poisonous creatures and prickly flora aside. For all that her scoutmaster was easily twice her age, he proved more than spry enough to keep ahead of her. The guy moved like he had glue on the bottom of his boots as he scaled the massive trunks. He instructed her in his casual mix of Spanish and English on how to get around a complex mass of vines and join him at the top tier of foliage. Able to poke her head up above the leaves and into the sky at last, Deunan had to grin at the sunny treetops. It was akin to an ocean of plants, when seen from the surface.

"There. West. You see?" Hernando pointed out a sparkle in the distance. Deunan slid her goggles over her eyes, not trusting herself yet without them. It was too small for a patrol plane or hover-ship, and didn't look familiar anyway. Not American tech then, she pushed her multi-function lenses back up on her forehead. "Pacific fleet, unmanned drone?"

"Very good." He nodded. "Note the camouflage. They're easy to see when out in the light, shiny. But in shade? Tricky. Very quiet. They provide support for ground troops usually. See one? Expect the other."

Gauging the distance, she eyed the target speculatively. "Shoot it down and you blind a squad, huh? Sounds fun."

"Leave a massive smoke plume for the reinforcements to use as a homing beacon?" He scolded mildly. "Unwise, chica. Better to clear the ground when it's not looking. Then it goes back to its masters and says 'wiped out for unknown reasons'… makes them nervous. Eh?"

Deunan had to grin at that, turning to her commander to admire his wolfish look. Kooky beard or not, she liked his style. "Why captain, if I didn't know better I'd say you'd done this before…"

"Heh." The old man shifted his gear and produced a pair of old-fashioned mechanical binoculars. Peering through them towards their potential-prey and then doing a quick sweep of the skyline he shrugged. "You feel you've had enough 'practice' in climbing, Bonita? I think perhaps, in view of your progress, we might move on to a little hunting."

"What's on the menu?" She cheerfully asked, pulling her bandanna loose from where she'd looped it around her gun belt. Wrapping it around her hair, she tied it at the back of her neck, shielding the obvious color from view. Another few weeks and her natural tan would do the trick of giving her some camouflage in the shade below, for the moment she'd resorted to smudging her skin with dust. Her captain gave her an approving look for her forethought and signaled that they should go below.

"Cyborgs." He hopped down several branches before bracing himself against the trunk and looking up to observe her progress. "You share rooms with your man. But have you ever fought one before?"

"I lived in L.A." Deunan landed in a crouch on a branch across from him, pleased at how well her new boots gripped on the mossy surface. She could recognize a tease when she heard one, and was growing comfortable enough with him to not be afraid of dishing a little back at him.

"Half of the gang-population consisted of military washouts with one or more mods. And then I've seen a few guys here-and-there recently, you know, in the war… Oh yeah, and I also spar regularly with this one really big guy with a full-body kit that I happen to know. I'm sorry, what was your question again?"

The old man grinned at her as he kept moving, not interested teasing her further. Deunan caught him muttering what sounded suspiciously like the Spanish equivalent of 'her tongue could cut to the bone'.

Not for the first time she thanked the city of her childhood for its weird mash-up of Spanish and Asian languages. She might not be fluent in any one dialect like Briareos was, but she could make herself understood, and grasp the gist of most insults without trouble. Smiling to herself as she swung down to the ground and chased after her commander, she remembered that Briareos _didn't_ know much Spanish. It'd be a rare bit of fun to be able to turn the tables on him for once with their new captain. For once it'd be _him_ looking at _her_ going 'what was that?' rather than the other way round. Probably it wouldn't last long, he would undoubtedly pick up what he needed in no time, but it'd be good for a few days of teasing, at least.

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It took the better part of a day to cover the terrain between their initial lookout, and their potential prey. She was glad at least, that Alaska had given her ample chances, and motivation to stay in peak condition, even if sometimes for the wrong reasons. Breaking for a short-rest when it became too dark to see effectively, they positioned themselves within striking distance come morning. The sun was barely in the sky when he prodded her awake. Cold rations for breakfast, they ate while they planned their route.

Deunan marveled at the pace her captain set. The old guy seemed able to stalk for kilometers without rest, moving through the brush with a hyper vigilance born of years' experience. The longer she spent in the trees the more confident she became in recognizing the noises and textures that were 'normal' versus signs that the foliage was hiding something that didn't belong. Not quite ready yet to declare herself an expert, she let him be her guide, eyes and ears alert to any sign of trouble. Guerrilla tactics, she told herself, weren't _all_ that different between jungle and city. In both cases, your targets could be anywhere in both a horizontal and vertical sense. In both cases color and texture were easy to fake, forcing a person to rely on movement and sound to apprehend an opponent.

She should have packed some proper grease paint. Deunan thought absently to herself as she swung her gun around and walked backwards a few paces, scanning the trees at their backs during a temporary pause. Her gloves hid the pale skin of her fingers, but her wrists were exposed when her sleeve pulled back, and she was sure her face wasn't anywhere near dark enough with a light dusting of dirt. She'd need to find some proper mud if she was going to be serious about things. Then again, what was the point when half the men they were hunting probably could see in infrared? They'd be shooting long before they noticed that she was a blonde, Deunan told herself.

Captain Jamar sank into a crouch at the edge of a stream and gestured to get her attention. Sitting on her heels next to him, she raised an eyebrow in silent inquiry. He smiled briefly. "We're close now. Probably in the next valley. Talking, from now on would be inadvisable, yes? Good." He nodded to himself, seeing that she understood. "You follow. No shooting until I give the signal. First we observe, then we withdraw and discuss, only then, maybe, we shoot. No stupid rookie stuff. It's a long walk back to base from here. I don't care how slim you are, I don't want to carry your body that far."

"Yessir." She refrained from taking offense that he had to spell things out for her. She wasn't a complete lunatic to dive in with guns blazing. There was bold, and then there was just plain stupid. At the very least she wanted a preliminary target-count. This wasn't a cut-and-dry op, it made sense that they had to do their own recon first. "You lead, I follow. I read you."

"Good girl." He praised her as he scooped up a few fingers full of mud from the streambed. "Time to put on your makeup!"

Deunan sighed as he deliberately daubed the sticky glop in the middle of her forehead. Batting his fingers away she did the work of smearing the make-shift face paint on herself, amused to note that even as tanned as he was, he didn't refrain from coating the exposed skin of his face and neck as well. The resulting mess made him not only shaggy, but muddy as well. She felt a little as though she was following some sort of jungle-themed gnome as she tailed him through the last portion of bush. Undoubtedly if Bri were there, he would have been shaking his head in dismay at the sight. She hoped he'd be ready for action by the time she got back. Patrolling was never as comfortable without his superior hearing to rely on.

Deunan climbed over a deadfall and eased down a fern-covered slope into a gully, moving as quietly as she could in her captain's wake. Hernando was good. She'd known it even at base, but seeing the guy at work was a genuine pleasure. He not only knew his shit, but he knew how to explain it to others as well. Only a few days and she already felt she'd learned more than she'd have ever picked up from sitting in lecture on base. He was a hands-on type of guy, and she was grateful for it. Seeing him eyeing a particularly huge tree trunk she wasn't all that surprised when instead of going around the obstacle, he chose to go _up_ instead. Deunan took a moment to tighten the bindings on her gloves, and then moved to follow.

Perhaps it was best that Briareos _wasn't_ with her, she mused as she sought hand and footholds against the vine-covered monster of a tree. He'd be spending an awful lot of time twiddling his thumbs on the ground in the months to come she predicted. Unless the doctors on base were building him some pretty custom-toe-clips, along with finding ways to lower his total weight to something more human, he'd never be able to follow her up into the canopy. It was ironic that her marksman wouldn't have the high-ground advantage on her anymore.

She pondered the problem as she watched her CO deftly jump from one massive tree branch to another, proving that man had indeed descended from apes as he shifted from their tree to an even bigger one.

Historically she'd run point, while Briareos covered her. His faster reflexes and awesome ability to target perps meant that all she had to do was draw fire once, and he'd trace the bullet back to nail whoever it was they were up against. They'd gotten it down to quite a system back in LA, really. He'd get into position, she'd play bait, they'd have a little contest between them to see whether he could take out her targets while she was working her way into striking distance, or if their prey was smart enough to duck, and forget all about her creeping in for the kill.

That sort of tactic just wouldn't work _here_ however, she mused. Not unless they traded roles all together. He could just trundle through the bush making as much noise as possible and attracting fire, but she doubted she could do half as good a job at marking their prey as he'd done. Sure she could do trick shots, but every time, without fail? Briareos was bound to get hurt.

She bit her lip, bracing herself for her own jump from tree-to-tree. Her landing was a little less elegant than her commander's, but it got the job done. She crouched until she was certain of her balance, and then continued to chase him upwards through the vine-covered branches. The hint of sunlight they'd been following suddenly unfolded into a genuine view.

Their tree, taller than the others, leaned out over the hillside, giving them an unrestricted access of the valley beyond. Deunan followed the captain's silent gesture to position herself on an adjacent branch, watching as he stretched himself out on his belly along the swaying limb, and then inching himself forward to get a better look at the lay of the land. She wasn't entirely thrilled by the idea of putting her weight on the extreme end of her own branch. But still, it could _probably_ take her weight, and she hadn't come this far just to chicken out when presented with the final challenge. Glad Briareos wasn't around to freak out at her latest stupidity, she followed Hernando's lead yet again, and crawled carefully along the disturbingly bendable branch. She was a _long_ way up. Deunan told herself to stop looking down at the suddenly-tiny-looking tree roots, and instead concentrated on the valley.

Either a large creek, or a small river, it was wide enough to actually make a break in the trees. She idly speculated on how nice it would be to go wading in the shallow water even as she counted forms moving in and around it. The cyborgs had a weirdly hunch-backed aspect, their arms dragging almost on the ground as they walked. They were still bipedal, she noted, roughly human in appearance, and painted in mottled greens.

Seeing the ease with which one of the soldiers swung himself up into the trees alongside the river, she smiled grimly. Their kits had been customized _just_ for their particular arena of combat, much like the troops she'd met in Alaska. Out of their element their odd bodies would be nothing but a handicap to the soldiers, but surrounded by the dense vegetation, their weird construction made perfect sense.

Undoubtedly they could climb better than she could, Deunan frowned as she speculated. But that didn't necessarily follow they had an unbeatable advantage. Their armor had to be thinner than average, she mused, to keep the weight down. Probably their entire internal structure was naturally flimsier, more plastics, less metals, to allow them to climb higher, faster. A shot that would glance right off her partner would likely put a considerable hole in one of their enemies. Then again, to shoot one, she'd have to find it first. Not an easy task when they blended into the scenery every time they stopped moving.

Deunan picked out the telltale gleam of the cyborg's lenses and smiled to herself. Technology had its handicaps, and there was no way she'd ever heard of to make a piece of curved glass not gleam when light was shining on it. Not and have it still be useful, at any rate. It'd be tricky to spot one of the bastards, if they were really trying to hide, but not impossible. Even if their hands were pre-equipped with climbing hooks, they only had two of them. They'd either climb, or shoot. She'd just have to be careful if she went at one on the ground. With their longer arms, they might be able to score a hit on her before she could return them the favor. The challenge promised to be interesting. Taking mental notes so she could fill her absent partner in, she idly counted heads as she observed the scene.

The combination of aerial drones and cyborgs wasn't all that uncommon. Even the regular human infantry she spotted making their way over the wide riverbed weren't anything meriting particular alarm. Taking them on with a team of only two was mildly hair-brained, Deunan supposed, but this _was_ reconnaissance. In theory she and her captain could just track, and report, and leave the actual killing to the 'copter pilots. Her fingers itched for a fight, even a little one. Fed, rested, and now limbered up from a few days of drilling in the field, she found herself eager to get back into combat. It seemed a shame to just watch when they could easily pick off half the group before the rest figured out what was going on. Of course, the second half of the group would then proceed to hunt them down like hounds from hell. She discouraged herself from acting rashly.

If Briareos were with her, she might have risked it. With him to cover her from below while she stirred up trouble above, she could do the initial strafe, and then bolt when things got too hot, trusting him to hold the fuckers up while she moved or more-likely-fell into a better position. The kernel of an idea formed almost without her needing to think consciously about it. She blinked to realize that the tactic might just be what she was looking for. She could still run point for her marksman, just with a little twist. Instead of her running at their target, she'd just goad the target into running towards _them_. It'd need some work, as far as plans went, and undoubtedly Briareos would poke all sorts of holes in it once he heard the basics, but they'd come up with something. They always did.

A weird hooting moan from the jungle to her left made her flinch. The sound like nothing she'd ever heard before. Next to her, Hernando craned his neck to get a better view, his eyes wary for the first time since they set out. He twirled a finger to silently get her attention and pointed out a series of trees on the far side of the valley that were swaying far more than the vegetation around them. Deunan blinked, wondering what could disturb the massive branches so thoroughly. A tank was her first guess, but there was no way the armored vehicles could fit through the tightly-packed jungle without dozers actively plowing down the trees ahead of them to break a trail. Whatever it was she was looking at was coming _through_ the forest, not over it.

The troop in the valley noticed the hooting as well as she had. Their reaction far more telling than anything else. Shouting and a sudden flurry of activity arose as they abandoned their peaceful river crossing in favor of retreating back the way they'd come. Several of the cyborgs took up positions in the trees, Deunan nodded at the sense of leaving the faster-moving soldiers as a rear guard behind the supposedly more-fragile flesh-and-bone types. Whoever was coming wasn't one of theirs. She slid her goggles over her eyes and toggled the magnification, wanting to know what had spooked the men so badly.

The thing that crashed through the trees made her stare in amazement. Someone had mounted a mini-tank's body on a pair of twelve-foot frog legs? Deunan pushed her eyewear back up on top of her head, wondering if they were defective. The sight of the monstrous tech crashing through the river, kicking up spray with its splayed toes at the same time as it opened fire on the retreating soldiers didn't get any less weird when seen un-enhanced. And then there was the noises it made, the weird warbling hoots grew more excited as it ran down a lagging soldier and mashed him to death beneath its feet.

"Come." Captain Jamar reached out to prod her arm when she didn't turn to see what he wanted immediately, breaking his own rule of silence. "We go. Now. We've seen enough."

"But the… thing!" She hissed back, inching herself along the branch and away from the battle after him. Deunan couldn't help but note that the treetops were still swaying back in the direction the weird tech had sprung from, distant hoots from the forest implying the monster wasn't alone. "What the hell is that?" She couldn't help but ask.

"Geckos. We'll leave while they are distracted." He ordered firmly. "Once bored, they will look for other things to smash. Like us."

"It's alive?" Deunan asked the first thing that came to mind as she quickly shuffled herself down the vine-covered trunk to the relatively flat forest floor. "That noise…"

"Nada mas, chica." He discouraged further questions, checking his gear and hers deftly before signaling that they needed to run. "No hunting today. I'm not ready to show you bullfighting just yet. We will retreat a ways, when they go, we shall see what is left."

"Yessir." She stretched her legs to follow him as he led the way uphill.


	5. Chapter 5

They'd caught up with a group of survivors entirely by accident at the edge of the valley. A band of frantic soldiers ran right across their path as they sought to stay out of the way of the uncanny mech. Deunan moved as training had conditioned her. Flinging herself sideways into the relative cover of the trees and shedding her pack while thumbing her assault riffle into semi-automatic. Her first burst of fire took out two closely-positioned enemy soldiers. Following the ripple in the canopy above, she let off another short burst of fire, pleased when a green-painted cyborg came crashing to the ground. A flat-bladed knife found it way into her fingers without her really giving the weapon any thought. Deunan cast it sideways into the face of a second 'borg that erupted from the bushes to try and maul her.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw her captain at work, strafing and weaving through the undergrowth. Wishing Briareos was there to cover her, she tried to keep one eye on the branches overhead and the other on the ground as she swept sideways to link up with her CO. Somehow they were able to keep from getting separated, or shot in the abrupt scramble for dominance. Deunan felled the last visible enemy as Hernando reloaded. They both swept a quick perimeter of the area before she moved to retrieve her fallen knives, and he examined the bodies.

"You were telling a little lie to me, mia chica." Hernando looked up at her from where he crouched next to one of her kills. "You said you shot 'well enough'..."

"I do." She retrieved her knife from the cyborg she'd felled with it by the simple expedient of planting her foot on the corpse's chest for leverage and yanking the slender shank free of its forehead. As she had expected, the armor plating on the modified troopers was practically as flimsy as flesh and blood. Neither her bullets or her blades had met with any resistance worth mentioning.

Walking over to where her captain was crouched, she inspected her handiwork and found nothing amiss. She'd shot the soldier just above where his flack vest protected his torso, her small caliber shot making a neat hole through his breastbone and shattering his spine as it exited out the back of him. Deunan couldn't help but look at the dead soldier's face, never quite able to be objective when faced with her kills up close and personal. He didn't seem like a bad guy. If anything the Western Alliance trooper looked younger than she did. She sighed at the way things worked. Better him than her, was what her father would probably have said.

"How many rounds did you fire just now?" Her captain interrupted her thoughts.

Checking first one gun, and then the other, Deunan did a quick tally. "Thirty or so. Why?"

"How many kills?"

Glancing around their now chaotic clearing, she rolled her eyes at having to guess how many of the bodies littered in between the tree roots and dangling from the branches overhead were her fault, and which were his. They had both reacted instinctively when the brief fight had broken out. She'd dove for cover by the base of the creeping fig, he'd disappeared behind the bole of a half rotted fern-tree. With both of them shooting, and the likely possibility of friendly fire amongst enemy forces, she couldn't just assume every target she'd aimed at had fallen because of her.

"Maybe ten? She speculated, "I used a few bullets to flush these guys out in the open too…" Deunan pointed to the cyborg and two troopers she'd killed with her throwing knives.

"And you would say… that was 'well enough'…" If not for his grin, she would have been offended. Thirty-percent of hits on-target in the sort of terrain they were fighting in, with enemies popping up out of nowhere, was pretty damned good in her opinion. Undoubtedly her father would claim to be able to do better, but he wasn't around to critique. She shrugged, not sure what to make of her captain's teasing.

"Is there a problem?"

"No no, Senorita Knute. I am all appreciation! You were playing a little joke on me all this time, I see now." He stood up and dusted off his pants. "You shoot 'well enough', yes. I would say you shoot _very_ well indeed. And you are certain you never trained in jungle?"

"Only the kinds made from concrete." She relaxed a little at the compliment, shifting her weapons back into their non-combat arrangement on hip and shoulder. "This rainforest shit is all new to me."

"I see." He gathered up his own fallen gear with an amused noise. "A question for you, bonita. Your man … does he also shoot 'well enough'?"

"Who, Bri?" Deunan had to grin at the implied understatement. Shaking her head she had to think for a minute to find the correct words for her partner's talent on her under-stated scale. "I would say… He's pretty damned good."

Hernando raised an eyebrow at her, clearly trying to match her metric to reality. "I see." He rubbed his chin and inspected their surroundings, clearly entertained. "Maybe the commander has been playing a little joke on me too… Funny funny. Ah well, is good! Is all good. No more jokes though, yes?"

"No more jokes." Deunan nodded in agreement. "What now? More training?"

"I think… maybe we should go back." Her captain gave her a considering stare. "Geckos on the move this close to base isn't a good thing. We will sneak around to the river while they hunt up here, count tracks. Then sneak away again, bring our news home for the big-brass to worry over..."

"Why don't we use long range radios?" She thought to ask a question that had been nagging her for some time. "Are those surveillance 'bots really that good? Surely we could do one short-burst transmission without having them run us down…"

"More than just Pacific fleet would listen." The bearded officer lead her from the disturbed bit of jungle, eyes seeming to peer in every direction as he picked his way into deeper brush. "Many things are out here, chica. Many monsters. Quiet now. We slip away before the scent of blood attracts them. While they paw at corpses here, we will be elsewhere!"

They saw nothing of the bipedal tanks as they crept back to the riverside to see first hand the aftermath of the Geckos' assault. It didn't make her feel any more comfortable to watch her CO step out into the open to examine the churned mud of the riverbank. Keeping her eyes on the trees she saw a few tell-tale rustles of movement higher in the valley, but nothing jumped out of the jungle to give a repeat performance to the one she'd watched hours before. She almost felt bad for the tattered remains of the unit still out running somewhere in the jungle. Torn between her paranoid tracking of the distant threats, and curiosity about what they'd left behind, Deunan spotted a few corpses hanging from the trees around her. Shifting to get a closer look, she was sickly amazed that any of the enemy unit had lived at all. One of the climbing-cyborgs had been torn messily in half by the armored monstrosities. Its torso still dangling from its over-long arms, claws embedded in the tree trunk with the man's last desperate struggles to climb out of reach of danger.

Deunan winced at the congealed blood and dangling cables where the cyborg's body was abruptly severed. They were lightweights, sure, but even so, the force it must have taken to pull the guy apart was visually evident. The Gecko's weirdly rubbery feet were good for far more than just running. Judging by the crushed timber and mangled bodies, the toes were almost finger-like in their dexterity. The idea of a tank that could climb and grasp as well as run made the hair on the back of her neck prickle. Tanks were bad enough when they had the sense to stay on the ground where they belonged. Deunan didn't even want to think about how schizophrenic a person would have to be to pilot one of the things. How many buttons and pedals would a machine need to be able to walk, run, climb and fight all with the same appendages?

Hernando spent longer than she would have liked studying the tracks left in the mud. Taking pictures with a micro recorder, he worked until the light started to fade. Nodding to her as he returned to the relative safety of the trees, he then steered her firmly in a new direction, away from both river and their earlier battle-ground. Deunan didn't complain that they were taking the 'long way' out of the valley. Concentrating on her footing as dusk fell, she kept her eyes and ears open as she let him guide her 'home' not wanting to run into anything nasty in the darkness.

Luckily her captain seemed to be of the same opinion. Other than pauses to eat and nap, they didn't stop moving until they had put several kilometers between themselves and the river. Even then, the wily scout kept them both on quick-march as he set about making them hard to find. Dawn broke without them encountering anything more threatening than the usual complement of scorpions and ants. Finally Hernando breathed a cautious sigh of relief, signaling to her that they would switch to a more relaxed pace for the rest of their journey. He even started to talk again, pointing out various bits of interesting detail in the trees around them as he had on her first two days of bush training, as well as telling her stories about the Geckos.

The idea that there were remote-control robot tanks capable of maneuvering easily through the undergrowth, made walking in the jungle a little less charming than it had been. Hearing that they were armed with a main gun capable of firing five-inch shells through a 400 yearold hardwood didn't make her any happier. Even a chance encounter with a tree festooned with a king's ransom in tropical orchids palled as a learning-experience when contrasted with the idea that a frog-legged trigger-happy _thing_ might randomly creep up behind her while Hernando admired the blooms.

Deunan _did_ like the idea that while the machines were tenacious when presented with live prey, they were easy to confuse once line-of-sight was broken. Her captain enlightened her at last, after spending the better part of the morning feeding her paranoia. Intelligent, but not intuitive, the 'bots could be hidden from and even ambushed, by a knowledgeable team. Listening to Hernando as he sketched a general scenario during one of their breaks, Deunan tried to tell herself that deliberately baiting one of the headless-chicken looking war machines wasn't complete insanity. Still, if her captain had done it, and lived, then she could do it too. It sounded like it took a bit of daring, and a bit of luck, but even a two-man crew might take one of the odd-bodied tanks down successfully.

She wondered what kind of damage Briareos' old fifty-caliber could inflict on the Geckos' heavy armor plating. If anything could knock one of the frog-legged

freaks on its ass, it'd be something like that. The heavy artillery she'd spotted on the wall of the armory was looking more tempting by the hour. Temporarily exhausted, and fully ready to share her adventures with her man in the relative safety and comfort of their room, Deunan sighed in relief when they staggered onto a muddy highway. After two days and nights hiking in the claustrophobic greenery while looking over her shoulder? Even with the risks, open air was a pleasant change. Close enough to their base that there was no specific reason to hide, they made good time along the side of the road.

Her fondness for her new home grew measurably when a passing convoy stopped to pick them up as a courtesy and carried them the last two miles.

88888888

Deunan hopped down from the truck and all but staggered as her legs adjusted to the idea of supporting her again. The free ride had been great, but after two days of near constant movement, the chance to sit still had probably done her more harm than good. The slow moving crawlers had made better time through the mud than she would have on foot, but even so, her legs had plenty of time to stiffen up. Her muscles complained bitterly at the idea of a renewed effort, even knowing that all she'd have to do at this point was stagger to her quarters. Ticking off the immediate necessities in her head, shower, food, sleep, giving Briareos a rundown on what she'd seen, Deunan passed off her weapons to the officer in charge of the armory and waited for her captain to dismiss her.

Hernando scratched absently at his muddy beard as he gave her a considering look. They were both covered in muck and sweat, but he managed to wear his with a certain rugged style, where as she was certain she just looked filthy.

"You did well, chica. Better than expected. One more outing, maybe two, and I'll have nothing more to show you..." He complimented her abruptly. The man's expression didn't show any particular pleasure. Deunan waited for the inevitable bad news. But instead, the officer turned to consider their surroundings, and found something else to distract her with. "And look, you don't even have to wait for your 'bienvenido a casa'."

Following her captain's look, Deunan saw Briareos emerging from the main annex with purposeful strides. He had already noticed her arrival? She glanced speculatively up at the building's many windows. The big idiot would have had to have been watching for her to pop up so quickly. Any suspicion that he just happened to be stepping out as she'd arrived was dismissed as he picked his way to her without hesitation. She frowned at the idea of her cyborg cooling his heels by the gates for hours on end waiting for her to come back.

If he had that kind of time on his hands, they still hadn't bothered assigning him to any base duties. Which meant that he was probably field-ready? Polished gunmetal grey and as gleaming-new as the first time she'd laid eyes on him, Briareos deftly dodged the trucks and crews of the convoy in order to cross over to where she was standing. Between the new uniform and the new paintjob, Deunan couldn't help but be reminded of a toy freshly unpacked as she looked up at him. She felt even dirtier as she stupidly admired his gleaming smooth finish, too tired to think of something witty to say in greeting.

Briareos spared her any need for formality, catching her by the shoulders with both hands in order to look her over. "You alright?" He gave her a gentle squeeze, his question almost inaudible over the heavy equipment shifting and grinding around him.

Deunan nodded opening her mouth to remind him that he ought to at least pay token lip-service to their CO, as the guy was standing right next to her. Before she could, Briareos surprised her again. Her massive cyborg stooped abruptly to kiss her, seemingly unconcerned with the fact that they were putting on a show in the middle of the busiest intersection on base.

Given the choice between standing like a stunned fool, and going along with it, she regained her wits after a moment and grabbed hold of his shirt to kiss him back. As nice as it was, she couldn't help but wonder what the hell was going on. Public displays of affection had never been her man's thing before. It didn't stop the kiss from being nice, _very nice_, but it was puzzling. Things didn't get any less puzzling when he didn't stop there. Wrapping his arms around her hips as he lifted his mouth from hers. Briareos abruptly hauled her up with him as he stood again, carrying her up into the air without so much as a word of warning. Deunan gasped and tightened her hold on his shirt, suddenly able to stare down at him as he held her pinned to his chest.

"Are you out of your mind?" She hissed in amazement, unable to let his demonstration go uncommented on. There was romantic, and then there was just plain strange. She felt like her blush ought to be visible half way across campus. Which given the way most of the people nearby had stopped and were now staring at their little display, was probably the least of her worries. "What are you doing? You want to get us in trouble?"

"Humor me." He murmured softly, his voice grimly contradicting his physical intimacy.

She blinked at him, more confused by the minute. "How?"

"Try to look happy to see me?" Briareos asked, a little irony seeping into his tone.

"I am happy to see you." Deunan pressed a kiss against his cheek, "I think you may have gone crazy while I was gone, but I'm happy to see you… why don't we take this upstairs and I'll show you just _how_ happy I am to see you…" Looking down at the dusty streaks her fingers were leaving on his shirt, she sighed and smiled. "Well, let me shower first, and _then_ I'll show you."

"Sounds good to me." He shifted her a little, giving her one final squeeze before setting her back onto her feet. Finally seeming to notice their captain, he gave the man a wary nod. "Sir."

"I bring your esposa home safe and sound, as promised." Hernando quipped to her partner. He planted his hands on his hips and leaned back to stretch his spine, unconcerned with Briareos' silent disapproval. Deunan cringed at his particular choice of words, wondering if her cyborg would pick up on the mistaken assumption and get huffy or not. The pair of men were already on rocky footing as it was, she wished she'd thought to drop a hint to her new captain while they were in the jungle. His quirky sense of humor wasn't going to mix well with her partner's weirdly bipolar mood. With the old man undaunted, and Briareos uncommunicative, she felt rather like she was watching the beginnings of a fight. She rested a hand on her man's arm to remind him that they weren't in private. Their captain simply shrugged and continued.

"She is little muddy I'm afraid, but it will wash, yes? I'm sure you will wish to catch up. I will leave you to it. I too need to wash, and do such things that captains do… But I think we should talk. All of us. Later on. Maybe after dinner?" First glancing up at the sky to gauge the time, the bearded officer gave them an appraising look. "Enough time that way for our bonita to wash and rest. But not so much time that she is tempted to get distracted by her man, yes?" He smiled wickedly.

"They said they couldn't paint me for the jungle." Briareos stated flatly. "That they needed _you_ on base to approve it, or some bullshit like that."

Deunan stared stupidly up at him at the non-sequitor. In her pleasure at seeing him again she hadn't given it any thought. It was hard not to notice now that he'd pointed it out. While he looked _great_, his new finish was anything but subtle.

"No cammo paint?" She asked the obvious, getting a sense of his unsettled mood from the way he jerked his head negatively in reply.

"Ah. Is that so?" Hernando scratched at his beard again, seeming unconcerned by the unexpected news. Deunan glanced at him, and up at her irritated partner, not sure whose side to take with the latest development. She'd assumed that Briareos would be ready for the field after a week of kicking around on base without her. The idea that he was _still_ potentially benched, and for such a lame reason? It felt a little like conspiracy.

As if reading her suspicious look her captain shrugged. "We should talk about this too. But later. Regroup at 1700, yes? Meet me on level two, lobby verde, by the library. Very quiet that time of day, we can find a good place to talk."

Briareos made a noise almost like a growl under his breath as the man strolled away. He turned to her with a sigh. "… That was 'green lobby,' right?"

"Yeah." She turned to give him a worried look. "What the hell would they need approval to paint you for?"

"They don't." He picked up her backpack and slung it up onto his shoulder. "As far as I can tell, they're just jerking me around. I just wish someone would fucking tell me _why_."

She half wondered if he would stalk off and leave her to find her own way to their room. But while pissed, his anger didn't seem to include her. Her cyborg shook his head as if dismissing the whole mystery and reached out to ruffle her hair gently. "You sure you're alright? No injuries?"

"Nothing worse than some bug bites." She shrugged, "You?"

"It's… been… a very strange week." He murmured, still studying her for any signs of mishap. "I'm glad your back."

Deunan blinked at his choice of words. Her good mood chilling further at the idea that something had happened to her partner that was so bizarre that he would verbalize how happy he was to see her. Stepping closer to him, so as to keep random bystanders from picking up too much of their conversation, she stared up at his face. "Are we in trouble?"

"I- I don't know." He cupped her cheek, looking from her to the area around them as if expecting interference. "They're sure as hell hiding something, but I can't tell yet whether it's just general bullshit, or something really ugly."

"In general? Or from us specifically?" She settled her fingers on top of his.

Briareos shrugged, barely audible with the trucks rolling past. "Us. I think. Or maybe it's me specifically, as weird as that seems. Or, I don't know, maybe I'm just paranoid after our last assignment."

"They told you that you needed a CO's permission to get _paint_, Bri." Deunan pointed out under her breath. "This _after_ spending a small fortune, no-questions-asked, in getting you primed and polished into peak condition. I think that qualifies as genuinely weird."

Seeing that her partner had no answer for that, she stepped back, keeping a hold of his hand as she tilted her head in the direction of the barracks. Whatever was going on, the paint wasn't what was really bugging him. She was determined to hear the rest before they grabbed a quick dinner and met with their captain for a talk. Maybe Hernando would be able to shed some light on the whole situation, she mused, but at the very least she could let Briareos vent a little before sitting down with the man. She had a hunch that if she didn't, her cyborg would probably snap and shake the shorter officer by the shoulders until he got to the bottom of things or the man needed a visit to the infirmary. "Come on, handsome. You can tell me how your week went while I shower. Then I'll tell you about mine…"

Following her through traffic and into the building's lobby, Briareos relaxed enough to snort in grim amusement. "Did you find your monkeys?"

"Not yet." She smiled, not above lightening the mood with a little teasing. "Say, how do you feel about spiders the size of dinner plates?"

"You're shitting me." He flinched in looking at her, as if expecting her to pull one out of her pocket.

"Damn near the scariest thing I saw all week." Deunan leaned against the side of the elevator as they rode it up to their floor. "I take it I won't be begging you to squish one for me if I ever see it on base…?" His energetic headshake of refusal made her grin. "Come on! You're made of metal! It can't bite you… and the bug juice will wipe right off…"

"Bugs that big give me the creeps, girl." Briareos grumbled, "Being a cyborg has nothing to do with it."


	6. Chapter 6

_*Adult themes warning for this chapter (skip ahead to ch7 if you want more drama / less romance)*_

Somehow she ended up carrying the first half of the conversation, despite her initial intention to hear from him what had happened. Briareos' mood was uncertain enough that it seemed best just to push him into a chair and chatter at him, try and re-establish his usual good humor with her presence. Soaping down and rinsing off, Deunan summarized the critical points from her recent adventure for him. Rather than joining her in the shower Briareos slowly relaxed in his chair and mustered enough sociability to ask for further detail on the cyborgs she'd seen, and the freaky tanks. She wrapped a towel around herself at length and navigated the wet tile back to their bedroom. Briareos tilted his head to one side, silently admiring her as she leaned against the doorway, giving him an appraising stare of her own.

"So… you going to tell me about _your_ week?" She combed her hair back from her face with her fingers, trusting the wet to keep her unruly mop slicked to her skull. "I haven't seen you this bent-out-of-shape in a while, tin-man. What happened?"

"Nothing huge." He shook his head slowly, slouching back in his chair and looking down at the floor meditatively. "Just, one thing after another… There only so much 'oh god don't touch me' bullshit a guy can put up with in a week before he starts to wonder, whether the world's crazy, or if _he_ is."

"Someone freaked out over you?" She frowned, crossing to stand in front of him. "Here? That's funny. I thought they were really cool with cyborgs…" Deunan gestured around their room, reminding him that it was purpose built for his predecessors.

"Let's just say, the welcome's not universal, ok?" He rubbed his head in a familiar gesture of discomfort. "You remember that girl, from the cafeteria? The one who dropped the soup?"

"Yeah."

"One of her coworkers isn't going to be inviting me to join their book-of-the-month-club any time soon." Briareos joked grimly. "He- he caught me the day after you left and promised some pretty ugly things if I so much as looked at her again."

"Fucker. What right does he have-" She paused in her fury at the way her partner looked up at her, his extendibles flat against the back of his neck.

"I told him to back off, naturally. And he- I swear to you, he looked at me, right in the eye, and said I wasn't going to do to her 'what the last guy did', Deunan." Briareos lifted his hands in wordless confusion. "I barely even said boo to the girl! I certainly didn't threaten her."

"Of course you didn't." She shook her head in slow amazement. "That's just freakish. What do the other cyborgs make of it?"

"Fucked if I know." Her partner leaned forwards in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees in defeat. "They won't give me the time of day. Even those two jokers we met in the elevator… Once you left they just- nothing. I functionally don't exist to them. I've had random people cross to the other side of a street to avoid me in the past. But never another cyborg! I pay my dues to the damned association just like the next guy, you'd think they'd be a little friendlier... but no. "

"Definitely freakish." She murmured, beginning to grasp what he meant by his comment earlier about having had a strange week. "The doctors are ok though, right?"

"Yeah. I guess." Briareos shifted, unsettled. "They're all kinds of helpful until I actually want them to do something specific. A paint, a job assignment, permission to leave base for an afternoon… The minute I try and actually _do_ something, they become the most amazingly cagy bastards you've ever met. I so much as complain of a case of the hiccups and they'll run forty-eight hours of tests on me, no questions asked. But the rest? Forget it."

He slid his hand over his head as he vented as if rubbing at a headache. "I tried to go to the base commander to convince _someone_ to at least put me on the active list. He pretty much told me the same as our dotty CO, 'Relax. Don't worry. Enjoy life on base. It's nice here.' He had the balls to imply that I was some sort of battle-addict for even wanting to get back on the rolls…"

"Ok." She didn't know what else to say. On the surface part of her wanted to tell him he was over-reacting to a few bad eggs, but even so, that wasn't what he wanted to hear.

"You didn't come back yesterday when you were due in." He finished at last, resuming his earlier slouch to look at her in resignation.

"I told you, we went further out than I think Hernando anticipated taking me." She reminded him.

"Yeah." He rested his arms limply on his thighs. "Well I was coming back from dinner, and wouldn't-you-know but suddenly I was Mr. Popular. Eight guys - cyborgs, marines, two of the god-damned chefs – all corner me in the back lobby, all of them demanding to know where _you_ were… All of them wanting to know what I'd fucking _done_ to you."

Briareos surged out of his chair, pacing to the window to glare at the afternoon. "They acted like they expected me to confess I'd strangled you and dumped your body in a locker and just lied to everyone that you'd gone off on patrol…"

"Holy shit." Deunan stared at him in amazement. That went considerably beyond her usual weirdness quota. The idea of her partner getting jumped by random strangers accusing him of some sort of homicide just because _she_ was a day late? It just didn't make any sense. No wonder he was shaken up. "What did you say?"

"I told them all they were fucking insane, and beat a retreat to our room before they could prove me right. Been avoiding the lot of them since." He turned back to her, entire posture radiating confusion and stress. "I've got girls on base who burst into tears at the sight of me. There's a damned 'posse' waiting to lynch me for shit I haven't done. The other cyborgs act like I'm some sort of Typhoid Mary, and the doctors all treat me like I'm some sort of fucking toy. Add to that the COs all doing the 'everything is fine' song and dance when it's pretty clear to me that everything is _not_ fine. And I am so fucking tired of being _watched_ by people who are clearly just waiting for me to twitch in a way they don't like so they have an excuse to haul me off to the wreckers…"

Deunan winced, reaching for him only to be shaken off. Briareos paced a circuit around the room before forcing himself to sit again, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry for shouting at you, girl. It's just- I have to shout at someone or I'll really go round the bend. And frankly I don't want to give them the pleasure of vindication right now."

"Hey." She moved to stand next to him again, drifting her fingers over his scalp plates and playfully along the closer extendible. "Vent all you want, handsome. You know I'm good for it. If I'd had your week I'd want to shout and throw things too…"

Briareos took another deep breath, collecting himself as he looked at her. At length he reached up and caught her hand, keeping her from tickling his face further. Turning her palm up, he brushed his mouth along her fingers softly. "I would never intentionally hurt you, Deunan. Ever."

"Of course not." She smiled encouragingly at him. "They're insane. It's as simple as that. They could have checked the gate logs and seen for themselves that I was out with the captain. Even if you were 'Bluebeard' material and had a whole locker-room full of dead former-girlfriends, you'd have had a pretty tough time faking a log-entry, security camera footage, and an armory-inventory sheet… especially as you only got here a week ago! Maybe this is some kind of weird hazing?"

"You don't think it's all in my head?" He asked her sarcastically. "Don't you want to tell me everything is fine too?"

"No." Deunan disagreed. "No it sounds to me like they're definitely Section-8 caliber nut-jobs. I'm sorry I left you to deal with this shit solo."

"You didn't know." Briareos stared up at her. And then continued to stare at her, the long pause drawn out to the point where she wanted to fidget. At length, he snorted in soft amusement. "…Damn, girl."

"What?" She frowned, puzzled by his change of mood. Having gotten the worst of his frustrations out in the open, he suddenly looked far less tense. Deunan raised an eyebrow at him, trying to figure him out. "What is it?"

"It is incredibly difficult, hellcat, for me to stay angry at the inherent unfairness of my life when you are standing right in front of me wearing nothing more than a towel, and a smile. Do you know that?" The laughter in his voice made her grin.

Looking down at herself, Deunan had to concede her towel was pretty damned short. She glanced up at him through her lashes, playing coy for his benefit. Deunan was glad she could provide some sort of pleasant distraction from his recent headaches. "I can take the towel _off_, you know. All you have to do is ask."

"Minx." He shook his head, refusing to be baited. "Don't tempt me."

She untucked the top corner of her wrap in a move of feigned clumsiness, letting the damp fabric pile around her ankles before looking over at him again. Deunan bit her lip and gave him her best wide-eyed-innocent stare as she stood naked before him. "Oops. My bad."

No sooner than the cloth had settled, he leaned forward and took her captive in his arms. Deunan laughed out loud at the eager feel of his mouth on her collarbone. Having vented verbally, Briareos' intention to physically let off some steam was plain. She twisted her arms around his neck, perfectly content to straddle his lap and snuggle him, entertained by the feel of his uniform on her bare skin. Her ploy had been ridiculous, even for her, more of a joke than a seduction. It was clear however that Briareos needed a jolt of silly stupid fun after the week he'd had. Kissing random portions of his face, she did her best to remind him that life wasn't always grim and serious. Hell, after a few days playing cat-and-mouse in the jungle, she didn't mind a reminder herself.

Briareos paused, catching her hands when she went to strip off his shirt. "We have time for a quick dinner or this but not both, woman. Choose."

"_I_ have active-duty-pay for the past week waiting for me." She grinned up at him, deliberately unfastening his last few buttons. "We can have dinner at one of the bars later. My treat."

"Deal." His mouth fastened on hers, hot and urgent as he sought to capture her tongue with his. Deunan fumbled his shirt twice, before she was able to peel off enough layers to rub her palms along his contoured chest. It didn't help that his hands were everywhere. His massive fingers slid down her back and over her thighs, exploring the curve of her ass and sides of her breasts as he pulled her up against him possessively.

"Pants. Bri." She grumbled at him, unable to reach the last annoying bit of clothing with the way he was holding her. He ignored her in favor of continuing his teasing of her breasts with his tongue. Arching instinctively at the pleasurable sensation, she couldn't help but encourage him to taste as much as he wanted of her sensitive flesh. Dizzily she realized that they were probably going to have sex in the damned chair even though the bed was only an arm's length away. She shrugged pragmatically and caught his face in order to guide it upwards, kissing him hard. Deunan didn't care all that much either way. Whether she rode his shaft with him sprawled in bed, or whether he took her while sitting in an institutional bit of beige furniture was all the same to her.

"Need you, woman." He breathed against her wet hair as he fumbled his belt and trousers blindly. "Right now. Right here. Let me?"

"How do you want it?" She mouthed along his jaw, letting him know she was game for whatever. "What do you need?"

"Want to spread you over my damned desk and nail you to it." He rumbled, shifting her to implement the first half of his plan as he gave voice to it. "Like that time with the kitchen table… only faster… and harder."

She laughed breathlessly, able to brace her elbows on the narrow work-surface, but not much else. Trusting him to support the rest of her, she grinned as he rubbed her hips against his, letting her feel his un-plated erection. Deunan had very fond memories of that long-gone table, and the time they'd nearly broken it with an impromptu bit of desperate post-mission sex. It was enough to make her blush just thinking about it. Deunan licked her lips, giving him her best 'come hither' look. "So what are you waiting for?"

"Savoring the moment." He teased back, surging up and into her without further warning. With only the modest foreplay to prepare her for the intrusion, the friction between them was enough to make her grit her teeth. Two thrusts later and he had found his way in to where she was more than ready for him. She arched at the increasingly easy slide of their bodies. It'd been a while since he'd been so rough, and it was undeniably good. The lingering burn of his first strokes made her want to cry out with every new impact of her hips against his. Deunan crossed her ankles behind his back, using her calves to force him to take her deeper. She braced herself against his strong strokes by clinging to his desk. The edge dug into her back a little, and threatened to leave a bruise, but the sex was too hot for her to care about such mundane things. Leaning over her, pounding into her with silent intensity, Briareos was absorbed wholly in his effort. "So hot, girl." He breathed in awe between thrusts.

The drawers rattled with the way they were rocking the utilitarian furnishing. Too narrow to really be called a desk, she had to admit to herself it wasn't the most comfortable option to be had in their room. Something in his frantic breathing and the minor discomforts made the abrupt encounter more erotic than anything they'd done in quite a while however. Deunan felt her nerves tingle with his unusually desperate lovemaking.

It was even better knowing that the room adjacent to theirs was empty, leaving no-one to be pissed if she forgot herself in her pleasure. Enjoying the opportunity provided she moaned at how good it felt to have him ramming her. First the raw stress of the jungle, then a bit of rough sex to let her know she was urgently missed when she got home? She couldn't help but shiver and roll her hips in time with his, body as desperate for release as his seemed to be. His response to her new ploy was a strangled curse. Briareos' hands tightening further on her hips as he strove to give them both the quick climax they needed.

Moaning again, Deunan let her head fall back and did her best to milk his thrusts as he plowed deep within her. With her eyes closed it was only more intense. The fact that he was probably bruising her with his fingers was irrelevant, all she could think about was the molten heat between them, and the orgasm just out of reach.

Distracted by sex, she forgot momentarily that her position was precarious at best. Her sweaty hands slipped against the smooth metal lip beneath her, bringing the reality of her situation home. Suddenly off balance, Deunan scrambled for something to grab onto before she was inadvertently slammed into something with the force of him moving against her. Briareos noticed her problem almost as fast as she did, fumbling his hold on her hips to try and help. The end result was instead of cracking her head painfully against the wall, she cracked it with slightly less force against his fingers as he sought to cushion the blow. It was a good idea in general, but Briareos' steel hands really didn't provide all that much more padding. The fact that he half dropped her in order to keep her from concussing herself meant that the desk was suddenly digging into her spine in a seriously painful way as well.

He nearly lost his balance with the attempted rescue. Bracing his elbow on the desk with a loud thump, he checked his momentum in order to avoid causing her further damage as he tried to find a way to support her neck, back, and himself at the same time. He didn't seem to notice the potential dent however, too busy murmuring sympathetically as she winced and reached back to feel the forming egg on her skull for herself.

"Son of a bitch." Deunan chafed the incidental injury, distracted from what had been – until that moment – a really fun interlude. Pinned half against him and half on the increasingly uncomfortable desk, she looked up at her partner with a weak smile. "My hands slipped."

"I noticed." He agreed, breathing still ragged as he let go of her neck to support her back and thighs instead. Briareos shifted her carefully until they were both in the chair again, she settled intimately in his lap. Her cyborg seemed to forget for a moment that they'd been in the middle of something as he petted her back and shoulders in concern. "I'm-"

"You don't get apologize for injuries I give _myself_ during sex." She corrected him before he could get the words out. Rubbing her bruised head again, and then feeling for the tender spot on her back, Deunan sighed in annoyance, knowing the spontaneous lust of the moment was lost. He was still solid within her, but her body was more interested in telling her of aches and pains accrued than in continuing their tryst. "I'm the one sorry that I spoiled our fun."

"I shouldn't have been so rough." Briareos sighed softly, "I know better. That was just stupid. First I promise not to hurt you then I go and jump you as if I haven't had a woman in ten years, never mind a week ago…"

"Well, _you_ didn't hurt me. Ok?" Deunan grimaced and pushed off of his lap. "_I_ hurt me. You were doing just fine." She glanced at the clock. It was just too unfair. By the time they both got properly back in the mood, they'd be late to their meet-up with the captain. Her partner seemed to have the same thought, retreating wordlessly to the bathroom to clean up and put himself together.

"Next time we'll find a bigger desk!" She called after him. With her luck the mishap would just drive Briareos back into his funk from earlier. Deunan collected her lost towel and sat on the edge of their bed, giving him a few moments to himself before bullying her way into his personal-space. She thumped him in the chest as they traded places, causing him to huff in amusement as she ducked into the shower for the second time in twenty minutes. Deunan dressed and organized herself under his watchful eye until she couldn't take his silent fretting anymore. Turning and holding out her arms, she invited his inspection of her person. "See? No harm done."

"Good." He rose from his perch on the edge of their spare bed and moved to stand before her, hands drifting lightly over her shoulders and down her arms. She watched as he collected her hands in his oversized palms, seeming to brood over their difference in scale.

Deunan bit her lip, wondering how she could restore his earlier talkative mood. Looking up at his face, she offered him a worried smile. "How about you? You ok?"

He took a breath and let it out, the wordless expression of lost opportunity one she could readily agree with. Tilting his head to one side, Briareos gave her a long stare and then nodded slowly. "I'm alright."

"Shall we go see what the captain wants?" She offered. Reaching up, she teased him by scratching her fingers gently under his chin. He wasn't so depressed at their failed attempt at intimacy that he didn't get the message. His extendibles twitched in amusement at being treated like an oversized pet.

"You, Deunan Knute, are incorrigible."

"I. Deunan Knute, was really enjoying myself just now." She replied archly, letting her hand slide provocatively down his neck and across his chest as she stepped away and towards the door. "And _I_, Deunan Knute, would like to inform you, tin-man, that I am most definitely going to need a nightcap later. Now that you've gone and set my expectations."

He shook his head again, but followed her just the same. Alone as they were in the hallway, she wasn't entirely surprised to feel his hand caress her back and settle momentarily on her ass as they waited for the elevator to take them to ground level. Briareos gave her a brief squeeze. "I think I can manage something. After dinner?"

"It's a date." She agreed with a saucy wink. "But this time? Let's use the bed, ok?"

He squeezed her again for good measure before shifting to stand a little apart, behaving himself as they rode down into the busy lobby.


	7. Chapter 7

Hernando wasn't alone when they finally found their way to the conference room. Deunan paused at the door, requiring her partner to backpedal or risk running into the back of her with her sudden hesitation. Commander Fuller wasn't whom she'd expected to see. The sight of the man leaning against the wall across from the door, obviously waiting for them, as their CO sorted some dense looking folders on the table was enough to give her a serious chill. He didn't look pleased. Briareos' hands settled on her shoulders and coaxed her into the room after a momentary pause of his own, making his own judgment call on their situation. Deunan allowed herself to be pushed into a seat, not willing to take her eyes off the senior officer, suddenly paranoid about what he wanted. He'd promised them a month to prove themselves. Was he having second thoughts? There was no way they'd be able to repay the repair bill on her cyborg without a good six months of work, even at their old 'specialist' pay grade. She couldn't help but tense for a fight.

"Close the door, Lt. Hecatonchires." Fuller glanced at them with a faint smile, gesturing to her partner that he could settle next to her. "This is going to be a private conversation."

Hernando snorted softly and punched a few buttons on the projector beside him, clearly relegated to a supporting roll for the evening. She stared at him curiously, not entirely sure what he was doing with them. Was he supposed to be an advocate in their favor? Or was she completely misreading the situation, and he was here for another reason entirely? He smiled briefly at her, as if to ease her worries, but his heart clearly wasn't in the expression. Sliding one of the thick folders to her, he nudged a second and equally thick dossier to Briareos.

Suddenly it felt less like a tribunal, and more like a briefing. Deunan opened the folder up to the first page, more to keep herself from fidgeting than with any understanding of what she was supposed to glean from the document. The familiar format of the police report, attached to the top of the thick heap, made her blink in surprise. She'd seen hundreds of such case-folders in her life. But it was her first encounter with once since being drafted. Her mood turned colder as her eyes drifted reflexively over the code-numbers on the corner of the document, knowing the various symbols by rote since childhood. Their meaning was crystal clear. Rape, homicide, aggravated assault, property damage, repeat offender, just about every red-flag a binder could have had been attached to this one.

Whoever it was she was looking at, had been a very _very_ bad boy. Flipping on instinct to the next part of the packet, she found the details on the extensive crime-spree. Case-by-case the incidents were spelled-out: briefs, photos, descriptions of the victims and initial analysis on motives. The pure ugliness that the camera had captured in the first report made her bile rise. That the victim had once been a woman was deducible only by the matted mass of hair visible amidst the bloody mess of her bed. Her skull was smashed past recognition, along with most of the rest of her. Someone, or something, had damned near taken her apart. Deunan swallowed against her urge to gag, forcing herself to view the gristly evidence emotionlessly, searching for clues on the carpet around the mashed body. Her minor noise of distress hadn't gone unnoticed however. Next to her Briareos had glanced over to see what she was looking at and hissed through his teeth as he saw the images too.

"Son of a bitch." He breathed in quiet horror. "What the hell is this?"

"That, lieutenants, is the reason why you're both here." Commander Fuller sighed.

With a sense of foreboding, Deunan tore her eyes from the morbid photos and lifted the first report off the stack, counting with numb fingers through the rest of the clipped-together files that filled the folder. Some were thicker than others, but on each the codes were pretty much the same. She swallowed nervously. Sixteen homicides. She hissed to herself. All within the span of a single year, all perpetrated on base, most of them women who were mutilated past any easy recognition. It was easily as fucked up as anything she'd ever had to deal with in LA. "Christ." She found her voice at last. "You've got a serial killer."

Looking over at Briareos, and then down at her folder again, she gestured for him to make his own initial assessment. He shook his head, having seen enough already.

Their commander settled into a chair next to their captain with a grim expression. "Not exactly. But the similarities are certainly there." He gestured to Hernando to man the projector, an image suddenly lighting up the blank wall at the end of the room. Deunan blinked at the oddly cheerful picture, not at all in keeping with the contents of the brief in front of her. "Your partner, Lt. Knute, has in his hands a duplicate of the information I'm about to show you. I'd appreciate it if you kept the contents of both dossiers between the two of you. To date not all details of this case are known to the base at large, and for the sake of keeping the peace, I'd like it to stay that way."

She nodded absently, too interested in the projection to look away. It was a photograph featuring a posed group of cyborgs, clearly a team-shot taken at some sort of celebration. The body types were the first thing that caught her eye. The remarkably humanoid build of most of the men pictured was unmistakable. Small customizations made them easy to tell apart, as well as gave some hints to their personalities and specialties, but by-in-large the group of five combat-'borgs were remarkably homogeneous. Even more jarring? They all looked somewhat like Briareos.

"ZIIF-suits?" She couldn't help but remark in her surprise. Briareos said nothing, but she could feel him tense next to her.

"Yes." Fuller agreed simply. "As you know our base had a compliment of cyborgs fitted out in kits similar to your partner's. I invited you both to come to Comocalco for two reasons, Knute, Hecatonchires, despite your recently… dubious track-record. Firstly- I wanted _him_, and I didn't think he'd come without you." He flicked a finger at Briareos.

"Because of my kit?" Her partner guessed darkly, if possible even more tense than before.

"Because of your kit, and how you came by it." Their commander agreed. "But I'll get to that in a moment. My second reason, for the sake of full disclosure, is because of your background."

"You wanted cops." Deunan slid her fingers over the surface of the folder full of homicide reports.

The old man shook his head. "I've got cops." He smiled grimly. "I wanted killers."

That made her look up in alarm. "Excuse me?" 

"Given your SWAT background, you of all people would have experience judging when to engage a lethal degree of force when hunting your quarry. Likewise, as former LAPD you would have had plenty of experience with cybernetically enhanced-criminals. Lastly your subsequent military experience would allow you to keep your skills… honed. Add to that the fact that you were - and still are - partners both on and off the field, which demonstrates a certain steadiness of character in both of you… and it seemed to me that you were a pretty low-risk investment."

Deunan didn't know what to make of the mix of compliments and almost-insults. Not particularly liking the idea of being seen as a tame-killer-for-hire, even if it was pretty much true as far as the military was concerned. Briareos sat silent next to her, all but immobile with his displeasure. His pre-SWAT background wasn't generally known outside of LA's police department, and he liked to keep it that way. She couldn't blame him for being paranoid. She reached out to squeeze his arm, giving him a moment's support as well as reminding him that he wasn't to take offense. The blunt assessment of their careers was a test, of course. Just like the jungle-outing had been for her, and the week of enforced idleness had been for him. It was all just some sort of bizarre test. But a test for _what_? And more importantly, had they passed?

"Ok." She nodded, game face on. "You've got our attention. How about telling us the rest."

"Very well." Gesturing to Hernando, their commander directed their attention to the screen a second time. "Let's get started, shall we?"

The image of the cyborgs changed slightly, clearly another pose from the same group. But this time there were six men, not five. The new addition to the team easily towered above the others by a good half-meter, making them look positively 'human' by comparison.

The new guy, more than the others, looked like nothing so much as Briareos' bigger – meaner – brother, their kits were so similar. She heard him swear softly, recognizing the character even as she did. The cyborg didn't have Bri's extendible scopes on his head-mounts. Instead he sported an absurd-looking pair of mesh mouse-ears. Only when you realized that the unlikely accessories allowed him to have full satellite uplink capability did the kit seem a little less silly. The micro RF receivers had allowed the 'borg to keep an 'eye on the ground' in an orbital sense, not to mention gave him access to a veritable hose-pipe's worth of live combat information from anywhere in the region. The secondary fact that the man's arms were the same thickness as Briareos' _thighs_ made him considerably less laughable when encountered in person. It'd been over a year, but she remembered him without difficulty. It was hard to forget a titan-sized jackass like that, even with the chaos at the start of the war.

"Thomas White. Tactical Specialist. Captain in the Marine Corps. Former squad leader for the cyborgs here as Comocalco." Fuller recited from memory. "Kit number twenty-nine integrated in the San Francisco Cybernetics Institute laboratories by Dr. Virgil Zand… Approximately two years prior to your own cybernization, unless I am much mistaken lieutenant. He frequently went by the nickname-"

"Tomahawk." Briareos spoke at last, gripping the edge of the table to steady himself. "Yeah. We've met."

The rest of the cyborgs in the picture had two things in common, Deunan guessed before being told. They were 'made' in the _other_ lab, the one in Phoenix. And, according to rumor, they were all killed in action. "What happened?" She rubbed her face, knowing she wasn't going to like it.

"The inevitable, I suppose." Fuller gave her a long look, and then turned to Briareos again. "Yours was kit-number thirty-two, wasn't it? You were the last cyborg Dr. Zand worked on before pulling his vanishing act. You were also the only civilian ever to be integrated into a ZIIF-suit body."

"That's me." Briareos agreed grimly.

"Did the good doctor talk to you at all about the history of his program before he disappeared? The… probability of complications after you returned to your regular life?"

"You mean, did he warn me?" He answered the question with another question. "Yeah. I got the rundown. No real details, but I know the score."

Deunan winced at the sound of her partner's too-reasonable tone. Zand hadn't talked about it with _her_. But she'd heard about it regardless; his program's abysmal track-record for success. Her father had spelled it out for her in plain language when she'd declared her intention of moving in with Briareos after his return. Even before then, there'd been the rumors. She'd tried her best to not listen, or at least to forget them, but she'd heard just the same. Her stomach twisted at the thought of such malicious assumptions being made about her man even here. No wonder he'd felt such a bad vibe… Shifting nervously in her chair, Deunan glanced at her cyborg out of the corner of her eye, but he was an unreadable mass beside her.

"Dr. Zand's team attempted over thirty Hecatonchires-software assisted 'borgs in the San Francisco labs. His experiments were copied to some degree by the military doctors to the south, same hardware, different variations on the software… most of the men in the photo…" Their commander gestured again at the wall and the projected image. "Had what you might call, 'version Alpha' of the software, which was a substantially 'earlier' and less powerful version of your system. Most experts in fact do not even call it an official 'Hecatonchires' version, as it lacks the defining characteristics of the later versions. The interoperability, the interactive AI component, and the ability to 'learn' any attached system." He shrugged, not passing judgment on which system was supposedly superior.

"Of the fifty men who _did_ get software and kits of the same era as yours, Lt. Briareos, before the program was shut down, only fifteen were ever allowed out of the hospital, or rather, _made_ it out. Many died on the table; always a risk with experimental cybernetic procedures. Some had unexpected complications during rehabilitation afterwards. Then there were an unfortunate series of hardware failures… But even for the ones who did 'return to normal life', as you probably heard, there were… difficulties. Many suffered psychotic episodes, unpredictable alterations to their personalities. Others exhibited a spectrum of severe mental illness…"

Commander Fuller folded his hands on the table in front of him. "Point of fact, there is only _one_ Hecatonchires-Gamma equipped cyborg currently in existence that has yet to show any signs of the progressive psychological damage that has determined Zand's project as a general failure."

She'd heard the story before, but the final bit of information was eye-opening. The number hadn't been that low when she'd first heard it. He couldn't be the _only_ one. It couldn't be as bad as that. Deunan stared at the older man in alarm. "Wait, are you saying-"

"So, Tomahawk went nuts?" Briareos didn't sound surprised.

When she thought about it, Deunan supposed she wasn't shocked by the news either. Tomahawk had always been a little… off. Even on their first encounter, she'd gotten a bad vibe from the soldier. There was arrogant, and then there was just flat out creepy. He'd been border-line. But still, Tomahawk had been number Twenty-nine, and number Thirty had died early in his treatment. She'd never met Thirty-one in person, but she'd heard about him. Maybe he'd been psychotic _before_ becoming a cyborg, but the transition sure hadn't helped, from what little Briareos had told her of the man. If everyone before Tomahawk was dead or nuts, that meant that Briareos really _was_ the lucky last.

She reached for him and then hesitated at the last moment, hating her own doubts. She tucked her arms around her chest instead of annoying Briareos with her fussing on top of everything else. Schooling herself into projecting a calm she didn't feel, Deunan concentrated on her breathing and tried to think about things rationally. It could all be coincidence, she stubbornly told herself. But _every_ single one? Not one guy with a Gamma system was left on his feet other than the 'youngest' of the bunch? It was hard not to see a pattern. How long ago had it been now? Deunan counted backwards in her mind, suddenly scared. How much time had they wasted?

God forbid people were right, and that Briareos _would_ go crazy on her… how much time did they have left? Thinking that way only made her want to fidget even more.

Their commander nodded slowly in agreement with her partner. "Not perhaps an official way of putting it. But yes. Tomahawk has been declared medically unfit for combat, suffering from extreme megalomania, uncontrollable rage, and delusional episodes. This coupled with an obsession with causing harm to women specifically - and other cyborgs in general - makes him a very dangerous individual."

"Holy shit." Deunan stared at the thick folder in front of Briareos, finally understanding what it was. All she had was the case-briefs for the _women_ he'd methodically butchered. That left her partner with… the rest.

"So I'm the last one." Briareos' thoughtful pronouncement distracted her from the piled evidence. "The last Hecatonchires-cyborg to not bug-out, or critically malfunction."

"It seems so."

"I guess that means it's only a matter of time now." He mused softly to himself, looking down at his metal-hands. "Saves me the trouble of worrying about planning my retirement..."

"Bri." She couldn't stand to hear him say it aloud. How he could sound amused at the idea was a complete mystery to her. The very idea of him changing; twisting into something she couldn't recognize, or reason with, made her palms sweat. "You're not going to go nuts. You're not like _them_."

"Odds aren't in my favor, girl." He looked over at her with a calm shake of his head. "Best to brace for the inevitable. Or better yet, plan to put a bullet in me now, before I end up a mad-dog like _him_." He gestured vaguely at the picture still displayed on the wall.

She gaped at him in mute outrage, not capable of finding the words for how horrible Briareos' proposal was. If he'd meant it as a joke it wasn't funny. He simply shrugged at her stare and looked away, not interested in continuing the argument with her. That at least was predictable. Deunan resisted the urge to kick him under the table in punishment. It was no use getting upset if she was the only one who seemed to care. Besides, a briefing was hardly the place for them to get into a cat-fight about the future. She gritted her teeth and told herself to force him to talk about it all with her later.

"It may come to that eventually. But for now I don't believe we need to take such drastic measures." Their commander overlooked their momentary lack of discipline, turning instead to signal Hernando to show another image. A mosaic of faces, mostly women and 'borgs, filled the screen.

"Our current assessment is that Captain White has killed - or orchestrated the deaths - of twenty-four people on this base. This makes him the second-biggest threat to Federated American personnel in the Mexican territories. Only the _enemy_ has managed to kill more of my men this year, and frankly, they're nowhere near as thorough when they come after us. You can understand that I'm rather keen to save my troops for fighting the battles they're being paid to fight, rather than to continue suffering at the hands of a rogue mad-man."

Glancing at Hernando, Deunan recognized the bitter resignation in the normally cheerful old man's face. It distracted her from her own worries. He'd lost someone to Tomahawk too? His silence throughout the meeting was out of character after over a week of his steady chatter. Looking down at the file in front of her she hoped that whoever it had been, they weren't one of the cyborg's 'girls'. Bad enough to read case profiles for anonymous women. Deunan didn't want to find out she knew one of them even by proxy. It would only make the whole macabre business that much more disgusting.

The fucker had willfully attacked and killed sixteen women. That went beyond pardonable levels of crazy in her book. Tomahawk needed to be put-down before he could attack again. "Where is he now?" She asked the first thing that came to mind.

"Out there…" Hernando answered for his commander with a jerk of his chin, indicating the sea of green surrounding their base. "But close. I've been tracking him for a while now. But I am only one old man. There's only so much I can do." 

"Close?" Briareos asked abruptly, seeming to latch onto the word with avid interest. "Why? He could be anywhere. Why stay near a base?"

"How else is he to hunt his favorite prey?" Their CO shrugged, "He knows we can't stop him. Anyone who tries?" He drew and expressive finger across his throat.

"What kind of prey are we talking about here…?" Her partner murmured, making Deunan shiver at his increasingly distant tone. She wasn't an idiot. She could put two and two together as much as her cyborg could. He was pissed at their CO again, and for good reason. She'd been walking around out in the trees worrying about tanks, when what she should have been watching for was something far closer to home.

"Same as before." Hernando scratched his chin, smiling vaguely. "Cyborgs, for their parts… Women, for… well… Entertainment."

The idea of what Tomahawk now found 'entertaining' made her want to be sick. Deunan ignored her disgust in favor of her growing anger. Women and 'borgs? She glanced at her partner, catching his sideways look in her direction.

"Well," she drawled. "That ought to make it easy."


	8. Chapter 8

Given that they were discussing a man's life, and how to go about ending it, the meeting didn't last all that long. Perhaps it was the distasteful subject matter. More likely it was the busy schedules of their commanding officers, requiring them to solve other emergencies before the evening was over. Whatever the reason, Deunan found their walk back to their rooms - homework in hand - was a thoughtful one. Briareos's mood was in a word, antisocial. Her own was hardly any better. Without really planning for it they both settled at their respective desks and started to read, absorbing their unexpected 'case' in order to better grasp the scope of the job that lay ahead.

Sunset came and went without her really registering it. Her attention wholly engrossed by the increasingly tragic circumstances of the women who'd died in the past year. The pattern wasn't all that strange, when looked at with a jaded eye. She'd seen the progression of a predator before. It was just the intensity with which he acted, and the speed of his descent into outright madness that made Tomahawk's work particularly jaw-dropping. Whatever kind of guy Tom had once been, she was pretty much convinced he was a monster now.

Deunan abruptly realized she was thirsty. Her spine popped audibly on standing, making her recognize just how long they'd been diligently hunched over their reading. Stretching her arms behind her back, she twisted slowly, forcing her muscles to loosen up. She glanced Briareos' direction, noting the way he was resting his chin on his hand, staring at the wall with his folder of notes closed in front of him. If he'd reached the 'pondering' phase of his research? It was well past time for both of them to take a break and think about something else for a while. She snorted at her heartlessly practical instincts, downing a glass of water and moving to his side of their bedroom.

There wasn't any room to perch on his desk. Even thinking about it seemed kind of tasteless, given their pre-meeting mishap, and the remarkably un-romantic reading she'd just finished. Her 'Bluebeard' joke earlier in the day had become weirdly prophetic. It hadn't been _her partner_ stuffing girls in lockers, but really she didn't know if either of them would be in the mood to restart their reunion any time soon. Nothing quite killed an intimate interlude like a serial-rapist on the loose. She grimaced as she settled on the edge of the spare bed and waited for Briareos to notice her.

"Hey," he glanced in her direction after a predictable delay. Taking stock of himself, he seemed as startled by the hour as she had been moments before. Briareos turned in his chair to focus on her instead of the inside of his head. "Time for a break?"

"Something like that." Deunan nodded, folding her legs and stretching her back again, unable to entirely put aside the undiluted evil she'd been reading about quite yet. "Want to trade briefs?" She jerked her chin towards her desk on the other side of the room. "Fun stuff, I tell you, a real page-turner."

Briareos simply looked at her, radiating quiet disbelief at her ability to make a joke, even a morbid one, after all they'd discovered. "Not tonight. Thanks." He looked down at his desk and then back to her, shrugging in defeat. "I think I've had all the 'fun' I can take for one evening."

"You've got to admit. It's twisted." Deunan smirked humorlessly. "Pretty textbook, I guess. Guy loses dick along with lower half of his body in a crippling accident. Becomes a Hecatonchires cyborg. Develops a sexual-domination complex and seeks to reaffirm his masculinity by boning girls with a strap-on every chance he gets… which soon becomes a honest-to-god-obsession to the point where he doesn't care if they're willing or not, or even alive-"

"Christ, Deunan." Briareos held up his hands in self-defense, not wanting the details. "How the hell can you be so blasé about this? You ought to be freaking out!"

"Too angry." She disagreed. Rubbing her hands through her hair she could feel the itch to get them on the psycho and do unto him what he'd done to the others, with _interest_. Modern justice was wasted on a rabid weasel like that. Eye-for-an-eye was the only way to go. Hell, she was looking forward to it.

"Just thinking about him – out there and gloating – probably preying on the poor fucking natives who can't do shit to stop him. It makes me sick, Bri."

"Yeah." He agreed, but his heart didn't sound in it.

Deunan gave him a worried look. He was too quiet. After being told by their commanders that the pair of them were carefully-choreographed bait for the lunatic wandering in the jungle? She'd seen him blow a gasket over far less caviler treatment by commanders in the past. The fact that he hadn't exploded on realizing that she'd been unwittingly out there within arms reach of Tomahawk for a week and gotten them both thrown in the brig was a small miracle. But his reaction to the flurry of revelations they're received wasn't at all what she'd expected. She couldn't really tell _what_ he was thinking. And that troubled her.

It wasn't that she wasn't pissed at Hernando too, Deunan supposed. She was. But on the other hand she could see it from the commander's point of view as well. According to the profiles she'd seen she _did_ make excellent bait. And as far as holding Briareos back on base… there could be any number of reasons, not the least of which was having him under close observation. With one rogue already on their hands they had to be a little paranoid about having _another_ one walking around camp.

That didn't explain her partner's silence however. Whatever the commanders' reasons for their actions, Briareos still wasn't acting the way she expected. If he hadn't mouthed off in front of the brass, he ought to have been at least bitching about it in private. But he didn't say a thing. Deunan bit her lip as she wondered what he was thinking.

She'd accepted the folder of 'women', leaving the profiling of the dead cyborgs to her partner on gut instinct. Deunan figured he might see a trend in the wreckage Tomahawk left behind that she wouldn't. One smashed bit of tech looked a lot like another to her. It wasn't like he would have done any better with the women. For all Briareos' unflappable persona, hate crimes against women tended to rattle him badly. It was just one of those things. Deunan never learned what exactly his reasons were, but her partner had an incredibly low threshold for violence against women and kids. She shook her head at the odd hang-up from a man who'd once been a professional assassin. Not that she was feeling comfortable, exactly, with the afterimages of sadism dancing in her head, but better her than him, she figured. His mood was fragile enough as it was.

The last thing he needed was visual confirmation of what 'might have happened' to her while she was out with Hernando.

Still, she didn't like how blank his expression was.

"So… how're we going to do this?" She folded her arms on her knees, studying him for any evidence of his actual mood beneath his façade of indifference.

Briareos snorted softly at the question, not answering her right away. Deunan had grown pretty good at reading his minute gestures however. The hidden tension, worry, possibly even fear, were there if she looked for it. Feeling a little lost about what to do, she gave into temptation and reached for him.

Deunan ran the backs of her fingers along the exposed 'skin' of his forearm where he'd rolled his sleeves up earlier. He flinched a little at her initial touch, but didn't jerk away when she slid her hand down to cover his. Deunan squeezed him supportively, wanting him to remember that she was in this together with him. If nothing else it gave him something to look at other than his own cybernetics.

At length he looked up to match her stare instead. The urge to make a silly face at him, just to break his weird mood was high. Deunan glanced away a moment to get control of the childish impulse. Looking back, she found his extendibles were shifting upwards, revealing his subtle amusement. He could read her like a book, she knew. She might as well have just stuck her tongue out at him.

Still with his grim train of thought temporarily derailed, she was determined to goad him into at least a little optimism. Rather than dwelling on how they'd probably die she'd much rather have him putting his considerable brains on the task of figuring out how to keep them both alive.

"Come on, Dr. Bri-PhD, if you wanted to take down a man who was a bigger, meaner, stupider version of _you_… how would you do it?" She teased with a smile.

"If it were up to me?" He sat back in his chair slowly and gave her a candid look. "With an orbital laser, first choice. A close second would be carpet-bombing with EMP mines from high altitude." He shook his head. "Shit, girl. You remember what he was like … Anything closer than that and he'll _see_ us coming."

"Nine-foot-tall armored asshole with high-tech mouse ears and an ego the size of super-tanker. Yeah. I know. I was the one he was chatting up the whole time, remember?" She smirked. "Bigger they are…"

"The more damage they can do." Briareos refused to go along with her cliché, opting for a far more depressing – if realistic – variation. "Makes you wonder how many other teams they've already fed him in their attempts to bring him in."

"You don't think we're the first?" Deunan blinked, not having given the idea consideration. "Wouldn't we have seen them in the dossier?"

"They wouldn't count as 'murdered' if they were actively KIA." Her partner shrugged, seeming resigned to the new level to their nightmare. "Our cases are just the poor fools who _didn't_ see him coming. Records of people stupid enough to deliberately go out looking for him are probably kept somewhere else."

"Brass don't want to scare us off before we even get started." Deunan scrubbed her head again, seeing what he meant. "Son of a- Bri… I don't want to end up another statistic… but I _do_ want to nail this fucker! There has to be a way. We may not be as big as him, but we're a shit-ton smarter… and besides. There are two of us. That has to count for something. Three if you count Hernando."

"The only that jackass is coming with us is as _bait_." Her cyborg growled to himself.

She grinned at the slip, feeling him relax his guard enough to let her see his fury at last. Briareos' anger at least, she could work with. Better that then the uncomfortable 'blank' he projected when really deep into his sulks. "He's not that bad. I think he was confident that we'd avoid the resident boogey-man this past week. It wasn't a fake training run, at any rate. He really put me through the works."

Briareos shrugged again, patently unconvinced. "I don't trust him."

"Fine. So we don't trust him. We can still use him." She matched his shrug. "So come on, what's the plan? My idea. For the record? Involves some long distance sniping with sticky-mines… or possibly napalm. Or… both. I want him extra toasty-crispy before we close in with hammers and bust him up for the chop-shop."

"He's pretty much fireproof." Briareos pointed out grimly. "Same as me. It'll take over a thousand degrees to do him damage… He'll dodge the rest. No way he wouldn't see something as big as a mine coming."

"So we slow him down. Gel his face, make him blind and short of breath…" Deunan reasoned. She rolled her eyes in exasperation at her partner's stubborn unwillingness to play along.

"Not enough range on the pellets. He'll be all over us before the third shot is fired… He's just too damned _fast_." He stood up and began to pace. "His armor's thicker than mine, so most projectiles will just piss him off… and there's no way a tank could out maneuver him… with his AI? I don't want to take any more military tech anywhere near him… There's too big a risk he'll find a way to send it right back at us."

"So… we get the jump on him." She weighed their options, and found that while going toe-to-toe was daunting, she wasn't adverse to the idea. Getting in close-and-personal was her favorite way of fighting. "Close fast. Get in tight. Use his strength and size against him… Somehow we'll lure him into a trap and then bash his skull into his chest before he realizes he's caught."

Briareos paused and stared at her, extendibles twitching as he fought the instinctive urge to shout at her for being insane. Deunan gave him her best cocky grin, daring him to rise to the challenge. "Come on…" She drawled. "It's not that bad a plan. I'll go first… slink on up to him and bat my eyes seductively… I know! I can take my bra off! Then, while he's drooling and making grabby-grabby hands, you can come up behind him and shove a piece of rebar right up his-"

"Deunan!" Torn between laughter and horror, her cyborg covered his face with his hand and bent over, shoulders shaking slightly with his dark amusement. At length he took a breath and let it out slowly. "You, woman. Are a menace."

"I've got ten dollars that says it'd work."

She lay back on their spare bed, folding her arms behind her head as she stretched again. Hearing him laugh, even strained as it was, gave her the confidence to relax at last herself. Briareos moved closer and offered her a hand. He pulled her out of bed and up against him when she took it. Deunan snuggled unrepentantly against his chest, glad of the chance to wallow in his familiar and comforting warmth. He hunched forward as he held her, offering both affection and shelter with his habitual gesture. She couldn't help but smile up at him after a moment enjoying the hug. "Don't worry, handsome. I'll protect you from the big mean cyborg."

"Oh you will, will you…" He joked softly. His mood was still subdued, but not as grim as before. "And who, pray tell, is going to protect _you_? Hmm?"

"I'm a Knute." Deunan smirked. "It's common knowledge that we're indestructible."

"Good to know." Briareos stooped to kiss her forehead instead of teasing her any further.

"We never got dinner." She mused aloud as they pulled apart. Shaking her head in dismay at their scrambled evening, Deunan rubbed her gurgling stomach wishing she'd bought a snack on the way back to their room. "I was going to buy you some too. Sorry about that."

"Only _you_ could complain about being hungry after reading a file like _that_." He jerked his chin towards the packet on her desk, extendibles twitching with his disbelief and dismay. "I think I've lost my appetite for the week, and I only had the cyborgs to read about."

"Work's work." She disagreed. "Food is food. But still it's too late now. Even the bars will probably have stopped serving. I'll just have to get double-breakfast tomorrow."

"Hellcat." He critiqued, but it didn't stop him from peeling off his uniform shirt and preparing for bed. Deunan ignored his grumbling in favor of her own nighttime rituals changing and washing up before joining him again. Briareos mirrored her unconscious choice of sleepwear, his well-worn t-shirt and shorts looking oddly mundane on his cybernetic body. "Deunan…"

She pushed him down against the mattress before he could fuss over whether she wanted him with her or if he was banished to the other bed for the night. Sliding herself in next to him she waved off the last of the lights before pulling the blankets over them both.

"I'll sleep better, if you're with me." Deunan stated as she curled against his side. Mercifully he didn't ask for an explanation.

8888888888

The rain made their prep-work a miserable experience. But it did provide excellent cover for their movements. Deunan sat back and admired her handiwork, the precariously balanced trunk if hardwood was hair triggered. Even Briareos had grumbled and struggled as he helped to shift it into place, but now that it was ready and waiting she could feel it move with only a finger's worth of force on it. Pull the right rope at the right time… or the wrong one… and the newly cut timber would topple forward and make whatever was underneath it go _splat_. She sniggered to herself, having enjoyed the lesson in primitive trap making from Hernando far more than she'd thought she would. It was fun in a very 'boy scouts' kind of way. In her mind a land mine was the better option, but if such modern resources weren't available she wouldn't turn up her nose at a tried-and-true tactic from ages past. Deunan hoped Tomahawk was stupid enough to stand right under it. She was curious to know which would win in a battle between cyborg, and the artificial dead-fall.

Between rigging wires, digging holes, winching the trunk into place Deunan wasn't sure if they were actually planning to catch a crook, or if they were just dicking around in the jungle for the hell of it. But it made a simple sort of sense, and if Briareos wasn't complaining at being put to work as their resident beast-of-burden she'd go along with it too. If Tomahawk really could 'hear' technology to the degree that her partner was afraid of, the super-rustic traps ought make for a nasty surprise.

She checked her ropes one last time before nodding in satisfaction. Sliding down out of the tree she lifted her face to let the rainfall on her cheeks. The novelty of how she could be wet and not particularly cold still made her smile. They were a _long_ way from Alaska.

The lousy weather was a good omen, really. Rain had brought her luck on more than one occasion in the past. She was hoping it would again. If nothing else, it softened up the mud even more than it already was. The hole they'd dug had easily six inches at the bottom already from the saturated ground soil leaching out around it. Deunan grinned in anticipation.

"I'm bedding down now." Briareos murmured over the low-power radios they'd thought to equip. His voice was a mere whisper in her ear as he announced he was done with his preparations. "Tomahawk's hit our outer perimeter. Looks to be heading home to his nest for the night. I move too much from now on and he'll hear me for sure. You two sure about all this?"

"Sit tight, handsome." Deunan whispered back. "I'll lead him to you by the nose. You just make sure you're ready when I need you."

"Be safe." His whisper was almost inaudible as he reminded her one last time. She made a face at his predictable worries and switched the small device off. The less electronic-activity, the better, if their prey was in range. If all went the way they were hoping? The madman wouldn't have a hint of what was waiting for him come morning.

Crouching next to their hidden trove of supplies, she traded her now useless tools for her usual complement of weapons. Deunan passed a second pack and pile of gear to Hernando when he materialized silently out from between the trees.

"Ropes ok?" He hunkered down next to her wiping the water from his beard. Seeing her nod of agreement he smiled widely and gestured that they too might as well take their places.

Deunan crept after him between the trees, right past where Briareos was carefully concealed. Curious, she checked the underbrush first with her eyes, and then with the help of her goggles, but she couldn't see anything remotely cyborg shaped hidden in the overgrowth. Somehow her partner had made himself functionally invisible to conventional means of detection. The best she could do was get a ghost of an image of his main power packs. The faint blob of heat in the bushes was no larger than a house-cat, easily mistaken for some animal or the like, and not a tensely waiting cyborg. She wished her partner luck as she followed her captain forward.

The scout resorted to sign language once they stopped, too paranoid to even speak. Watching his hands as he told her distance and direction, Deunan couldn't blame him. Tomahawk was so close that the cyborg would have probably _smelled_ them, if not for the steady rainfall. She grimaced at the thought and chose a tree to climb. The illusion of safety that she got on being above the jungle floor was enough that she could settle comfortably in the crook of two of the giant branches and rest. Closing her eyes, Deunan resolved to wait patiently for morning and their intended ambush.

88888888

To her amusement she woke to realize that she'd slept fitfully through most of the night. Already soaked from the steady rain, the further wet that must have fallen in her sleep hadn't done more than maintain her level of damp. The thick warm air kept her comfortable enough despite her awkward perch and the potential peril lurking around the corner. Birdsong rose around her in the pre-dawn hour, the raucous chorus of chirps and cries filling the canopy overhead and goaded her in making the most of her wakefulness.

She checked her guns on the off chance that she'd get a chance to use them, then checked her knives and other weapons less-conventional.

With Briareos pessimistic about their chances of an easy take-down using normal methods, she hadn't left anything to chance on leaving base. The pockets of her vest and pants contained any number of nasty tricks she was willing to try on Tomahawk, not the least of which was a sonic key she'd all but threatened the cyborg clinicians for. It was a breach of god knew how many laws and ethical contracts, she knew, for her to even see it, much less carry it around in her pocket, but special enemies called for special tactics. Deunan took out the nondescript bit of technology, no bigger than a lipstick tube, and turned it over in her hands.

Comparing it to the other key she'd worn on a lanyard around her neck for several years, she could hardly tell them apart. Other than the etched ident-code down one side, they were identical. She sighed thoughtfully. Funny how it was that she'd had the power all along to seriously disable her partner, should she have wished it, and he'd never once questioned his initial decision to give her his spare for safe keeping. Deunan had used the damned thing all of three times in the whole of their time together since his transformation. Twice she'd assisted him with small, on-the-spot repairs after missions where he'd taken damage. Once she'd done triage after the explosion that nearly knocked his arm off, miles from any possible access to a cyborg clinic.

The idea that she could peel off Tomahawk's armor as easily, provided that she could get close enough, was tempting enough that ethics could be put aside. The guy didn't deserve the niceties of civilization if he was going to rape and murder every chance he got. Deunan tucked the trinket back into a pocket and tightened her various cinches and belts, determined to survive their task without mishap if she could help it. Briareos was counting on her to draw out their cyborg and lead him to their chosen battleground. She wasn't going to let him down.

A particularly complex snatch of birdsong caught her attention to the trees on her left. Hernando was on the move. A shifting shadow in the upper canopy, he deftly swung himself up onto a catwalk they had rigged the day before. His alert gave her fair warning that the target they were tracking was up and shifting his position. Her captain flanked to her left and kept going, rapidly putting distance between him and the cyborg so as to leave her a clear field to work with. Since his retreat didn't herald a mad rush through the underbrush in chase, she assumed he hadn't been spotted. She let him go and braced for her own necessary task, trusting he would be where he was needed in time to help her.

Deunan took a breath to steady her nerves. The opening gambit was hers, whether she wanted it or not. Flipping her goggles down over her eyes, she scanned the foliage for evidence of Tomahawk and caught the rogue 'borg's outline in the dawn shade of the jungle. For a moment she balked at the shear size of the man. Taller-by-far than her memory of him, misshapen and bandy-legged, he had become gigantic in his time as a rogue. She pulled her goggles off her head in order to better understand what she was seeing.

The reality was just as strange as her tech was trying to tell her. At first Deunan thought Tomahawk was riding up top one of the fiendish tanks she'd been introduced to earlier. Certainly the frog-legged weapons platform was immediately recognizable, despite its battered and broken appearance. She winced at the brutal nature of the damage, the main gun ripped off its moorings and the majority of the top half of the vehicle crushed and crusted in filth. Tomahawk looked to have dug himself into the top of the tank's 'body' and made himself a home in its guts. Dangling wires and bits of hose made it pretty obvious that the melding of the two systems hadn't been voluntary on at least one side. The fact that Tomahawk was seemingly _wearing_ the mech like an oversized pair of pants boggled the mind. Now she understood why Hernando had insisted they overcompensate when constructing their traps.

She shook her head in awe as she spotted the thick ropes of hose and data cable interconnecting cyborg and tank. She wasn't certain if the bizarre union of tech was some kind of upgrade, or rather Tomahawk's way of overcoming damage that he couldn't repair any other way, and she didn't particularly care. Killing him would be considerably harder if they had to peel the tank off of him first, in addition to the armor he already wore.

Still, it was too late to wuss out now. Another two meters and he'd hear her heartbeat if he had anything left of his old sensitivity, birdcalls or not. Slipping down out of her tree, Deunan spared a prayer to the patron saint of police officers who ought to know better than pick fights with mad cyborgs, and smiled in spite her fears. The part of her that longed for a good fight was all but buzzing with anticipation. Inching through the brush, she got herself in position and stood up, fully revealing herself to the idly prowling fiend standing on the other side of the narrow ravine.

"Thomas White!" She pitched her voice so that it would carry. "As appointed representative of Base Comacalco, I hear by inform you that you are under arrest for crimes perpetrated against the personnel of the Federated American Army! Surrender quietly now or I will use whatever force necessary to subdue you!"

The cyborg predictably froze, not expecting to find anyone on his morning stroll, much less someone who didn't run on-sight. Deunan tensed as he turned and stared at her, not sure why she'd done something as silly as tell the bastard he was under arrest. It wasn't like there was any real option _other_ than 'use force', and she wasn't a policewoman anymore. Old habits died hard, she supposed. It didn't matter what she said, so long as she got his attention.

His movements felt awkward, even from a distance. Deunan watched as the cyborg tilted and jerked his head as he studied her, shifting his whole body in a shuffling sort of way in order to peer over at her. She frowned, recognizing why the 'borg was making such a production out what out to have been a trivial visual confirmation. She'd seen Briareos do the same thing once or twice, especially after the injury that had goaded them to transfer both to, and from, Alaska. Faulty wiring. Deunan smiled in disbelief. Some of Tomahawk's lenses had to be malfunctioning, leaving the cyborg to instinctively compensate for his 'blind' eyes by twisting and shaking his head so as to catch sight of her with the lenses that _did_ work. The idea that he was already crippled, tank-legs

aside, was very good news.

"Over here!" She goaded him cheerfully. "Remember me? It's Deunan. The police-girl from L.A. Long time no see, asshole."

"….Deu… nan?"

His voice sounded awful, circuitry there clearly damaged as well. She'd heard intercoms on the bus that sounded better than he did. Still, his gross-anatomy was more than functional enough. He guided his patchwork body forward, uncaring of the steep sided gully between them. For all the frog-legs on the tank were nothing like his real ones, Tomahawk didn't seem to have any difficulty walking with them. He nimbly shuffled down the far slope and splashed through the creek at the bottom before heaving himself up the nearer side. Deunan didn't waste further time on admiring his abilities. Using his delay to her advantage, she hauled herself up the tree Hernando had recently used, and swung her way onto the catwalk of wires. Thirty feet up by the time her monstrous tag-along had found his way to the clearing, she sat on her heels and made sure she hadn't confused him completely.

The cyborg peered up at her myopically after a moment's searching. Crouched above him, she could see clearly the assortment of damage he was operating with, and the damage he'd done to his 'host's body in claiming it. Even more disturbing, she could _smell_ it. A waft of breeze brought her the rank coppery sweetness of corpses and stale blood. Her stomach twisted as she clinically guessed the source of the wide stains that covered his chest and arms. Distracting herself with a quick estimate on the power of his new legs, and the distance between them, she opted to skip further heckling, not wanting him overly provoked. Making small talk seemed beyond his current capacity anyway, his muttered 'police-girl' seemed the best he could do. His oversized legs flexed as if to jump up into the trees after her.

"That's right." She encouraged. "You want me? Catch me!"

He was as close as she dared to let him. Deunan sprinted down the wires, using the same shortcut as Hernando as she navigated the preset route through the canopy. Even with a week's worth of practice, running the barely-there catwalks gave her a tingle of terror. The knowledge that if she looked down, or slowed, or god forbid got knocked off, she'd very likely fall and break something was ample reason to get her adrenaline flowing. No tightrope-walker, she didn't kid herself that her sense of balance was _that_ good. It was momentum, and the incredibly short spans of open wire between the trees, that allowed her to accomplish the feat.

Tomahawk gamely followed her as she retreated. Even with his shuffling around obstacles and random hesitations, he made disturbingly good time on the ground. Deunan sprinted another length of wire, forcing him to move over several meters of rough terrain. She could hear him start to get annoyed. The tell-tale whine and click of the tank's machine guns was as she'd feared. Provoked enough that he'd shoot her out of the canopy and just catch up with her corpse after she fell, he was warming up his weapons for the hunt. She ran with greater motivation, leading him on the zig-zag they had planned, wanting to work him around to the east. There were alternatives, if things got dire, but she wasn't about to deviate from the script just because he was a touch faster than she expected. She tried to put tree trunks between them whenever possible however. No flak jacket in the world would stand against the one-inch shells being fed in long ribbons into his guns. She doubted if anything short of another tank's plating would be enough. The bullets would eat through her, or even Briareos, like paper.

Still, Deunan wondered to herself as he vainly strafed the tree where she had stood a moment prior. He'd been out in the jungle a good long time. How much ammo could he possibly have left? Was he salvaging it off of corpses? Had he found a secret cache? Or was he running on empty? There would be no way to know until he ran out, she supposed. A lucky grab for a tree branch saved her a bad slip as she transferred from wire to a particularly mossy limb. Wood chips exploded just a few inches above her shoulder as Tomahawk caught up with her all too easily. Deunan hissed and dove for cover. He was getting better as he gave chase, she had to admit. For all that he was a half-blind, lumbering mess of parts, he was still an accomplished killer, and crazy as well.

There were still two 'runs' left before the rendezvous. Deunan eyed the next span of wire, and the 'borg hunting her, not liking the shifting odds. Thankfully Hernando was ready and waiting with the secondary distractions. A piercing shriek and loud explosion filled the air behind her as he fired a shoulder-rocket at Tomahawk's oversized-feet. She grinned as she felt the cyborg's attention pull away from her for a second. Using the opportunity, Deunan took her chance on the wire, sprinting for her next hiding space while Tomahawk was torn between shooting _her_ or shooting at his new source of annoyance. He sprayed bullets towards her captain's hiding spot, but the old man was probably long gone, preparing for the next obligatory round of covering-fire.

She unholstered her gun as well, not willing to let the boys have all the fun. Landing a hit on Tomahawk from around the side of the tree, she reminded him that he was supposed to be chasing _her_ and not phantoms. He didn't need a second hint. His legs might look clumsy, but the run he broke into was devilishly fast. Deunan put her head down and ran herself, out pacing him thanks to the clear path they'd laid for her. Sporadic gunfire let her know that Hernando was still out there, moving on a course that would intercept hers as they approached the second clearing where Briareos was hidden. The random shots didn't do much to slow Tomahawk down. She could hear the ping of metal-on-metal, but didn't dare look behind her to see whether the bullets were doing damage or just bouncing right off. Concentrating on her footing she jumped from tree-to-ground and all but flew across the carefully cleared center of their battleground mere seconds before her enemy. The carefully dirt-covered lattice of small timbers supported her weight easily, looking to the casual eye like just another bare patch of jungle floor.

From jungle to clearing, clearing back to jungle, Deunan didn't slow down until she was in the relative safety of the underbrush again. Catching herself against a tree trunk, she laughed breathlessly as the rushing thunder of Tomahawk's footsteps became an inevitable crashing of wood and metal as he tripped their tiger-trap. The cyborg let out a frustrated howl as the fake-floor of the clearing gave way, dropping the man into the muddy pit they'd excavated just for him. Now the only fear was his new and unnaturally-long legs would overwhelm their efforts. She instinctively ducked as a hail of bullets chewed into the side of the tree she was hiding behind. As she feared, Tomahawk's tank-body wasn't entirely sunk into the ground, the hole wasn't quite deep enough to hold him. His guns were not only still loaded, but still able to fire unobstructed. Deunan swore bitterly, knowing that if he hopped free, they'd be in a world of trouble.

"Hey, Ugly!" She cried out to him, figuring she might as well continue to play decoy as the bastard already had her pinned. "You missed me!"

Tomahawk was so preoccupied with his struggles against the mud, and wanting to waste bullets on her, that he was blind to any and all other sources of danger. Deunan heard more than saw Briareos emerge from his hiding place. An explosion of rapid heavy-gage gunfire to equal the rogue's own weaponry and several louder 'bangs' where the planted landmines went off drowned out his fleet-footed arrival. Tomahawk's pained and outraged bellow was music to her ears.

The heavy thud of metal-body hitting metal-body gave her all the signal she needed that it was time to move again. Briareos had played their hand, as far as attempting to peel at least a little of the freak's armor off, before literally getting the jump on him. Provided Tomahawk's guns were taken out of the picture, it was just a matter of keeping him down long enough to finish him.

Deunan gave up on her handguns in favor the machete slung across her shoulders. With one cyborg wrestling atop the other with often chaotic movements, she didn't dare shoot wildly, afraid one of the armor piercing bullets would hit Briareos instead of their enemy. Instead she used the bigger cyborg's distraction in her favor, ducking in and severing the control lines to the nearest machine gun where it swiveled blindly at ankle height.

Tomahawk was 'stuck' for the moment. Buried up to his hips in the muddy hole they'd lured him to, he twisted and fought with Briareos. Her partner held the advantage, forcing the bigger brute's head back as if to snap his neck while Tomahawk flailed and struck blindly at him with his larger hands. Deunan winced at a particularly nasty blow, knowing that there'd be dents later, at the very least. Still Briareos held on grimly, concentrating on immobilizing his predecessor while kicking at the various connections and cables holding him to the tank. Her partner wanted to pull the cyborg free of the armor plating, she realized his tactic even as she dove for the second machine-gun, cutting its lines as she had the first. Moving to assist him, she jammed her blade into the first of many thick hoses joining Tomahawk's waist to his tank, using it as a pry-bar with an edge as she half cut, half wrenched at the network of cables.

The cyborg's roar was almost inhuman as he responded to her attempt to disable him further. She looked up as she was suddenly crouched in shadow, realizing that Tomahawk had actually lifted Briareos bodily into the air as he sought to gain the upper hand. Her partner barely had time to recognize the danger before he was thrown, rag-doll-like across the clearing. Realizing that there was nothing to stop him from reaching for her next, Deunan kicked backwards in sudden fear, wanting to get out of arm's reach of Tomahawk's massively strong hands. She'd seen what he could do to unarmored flesh and bone. She had no interest in becoming paste.

"Y-you…" He gurgled mechanically at her as he grabbed after her, thick fingers missing by a matter of inches. Mud churned around him as he struggled to stretch and reach her.

"Don't even think it." Briareos picked himself up with a growl, shaking his head to collect himself from the hard fall. His sharp words drew Tomahawk's attention in a new direction. Muddy and battered looking, her sharpshooter's posture radiated pure rage.

The larger cyborg seemed to rear back in further recognition. Getting his first clear look on the man who had pounced him, Tomahawk seemed stunned to see another Hecatonchires still alive. "You?"

Never one for unnecessary smart-mouthing when on the job, Briareos pulled an incendiary rifle off his shoulder and unloaded five shells in a row into Tomahawk's chest. The ensuing explosions and smoke compelled Deunan to turn away, coughing from the acrid smell of melting plastics.


	9. Chapter 9

The mud churned even as the smoke cleared. Deunan cursed and crab-walked out of the suddenly soft feeling patch of ground, able to guess what lurked beneath. Tomahawk's legs might be imprisoned but they apparently weren't immobilized. Somehow the big bastard was stirring up the soft dirt, whether to sink them down with him, or to free himself, she couldn't guess.

Briareos felt it as well, all but wrenching her spine out of joint as he surged forward, grabbing her by the vest and flinging her behind him as he anticipated the attack. Her 'borg continued to move in the opposite direction even as she cursed and fell to safety. Using his speed to his advantage, he navigating the unstable ground around Tomahawk to close with the lunatic once again and finish him. In the time it took her to draw breath to complain, he'd nimbly jumped up onto the 'platform' formed by the man's tank-body. The monstrous cyborg didn't have a chance to do more than flinch as her partner struck again. Using both fists together as a battering ram, Briareos twisted at the last minute and swung like a pro baseball player, smashing the side of his opponent's face with a sound like a small car-crusher at work. Small bits of metal sparkled in the dappled sunlight light as delicate machinery broke loose on both sides.

Deunan tumbled to a stop in the mud, too awed by the sight of Tomahawk's head twisted sharply sideways beneath her partner's hit to care about her own damp discomfort. No un-augmented body could have survived that without a broken neck. But again, blackened, burnt, and now uncoordinatedly trying to fend off a lethal beating, Tomahawk was proving just how durable one of Dr. Zand's ZIIF suits could be. For the first time Deunan was forced to recognize for herself just how terrifying full-body cyborgs really were. She'd never seen anything – short of a truck – take more than one of Briareos' full-on punches and still try and fight back. The fact that Tomahawk was not only still-moving but that even the act of hitting him was doing her partner's fists damage, made a shiver of anxiety race down her spine.

Shaking his head, Tomahawk recovered from his surprise. He blocked Briareos' next three blows effortlessly, returning with a punch to her partner's mid-section that knocked him off his feet entirely, propelling him backwards and down into the mud. Deunan blinked at how child-like he looked compared to the towering mass of their half-buried opponent. Scrambling to get moving she chided herself for gawping like an idiot instead of helping. He couldn't do this alone. She cursed herself as she swung her rifle around, giving Briareos some time to recover by marking Tomahawk's face and shoulders with several rounds of fire.

"Hernando!" She called urgently towards the trees, wondering what was keeping the old man. They needed all the help they could get.

Deunan cursed and shot out one of Tomahawk's eyes when the borg stubbornly moved to grab at her stunned partner again. She wondered if even Hernando's assistance would matter anymore. What could the old man do that they hadn't done already? The mad-bastard seemed virtually indestructible. Her instincts told her to just keep pushing, to throw whatever they had at him. Pinned and disoriented Tomahawk _was_ at a disadvantage. As slim as their current chance was, there really wouldn't be a better one later if they retreated. Their only real choice was to tire the fucker out.

Could Tomahawk even _get_ tired anymore? She worried grimly as she watched Briareos pull himself up and shake himself like a dog to get the worst of the mud off. Just because _her_ cyborg slept and ate like a normal person, did that mean Tomahawk did too?

Another lucky shot and she got a second of Tomahawk's many lenses, effectively blinding him on his right side. He roared in annoyance, scooping up a massive fistful of mud and heaving it at her with surprising accuracy. The wet projectile caught her across the shoulders as she moved to dodge, the sudden weight enough to knock her back onto her ass into the dirt. There'd be bone-deep bruises from where she landed on her rifle she resigned herself grimly. At least she hadn't lost it, strapped to her as it was. Being caught underneath her as she put her full weight on it probably hadn't done the weapon any good however. Sweeping the mud off her arms and face she shimmied out of the tangle of straps and left the gun where it fell, opting to try another tactic now that Briareos was back on his feet.

Tomahawk, likewise was staring at her partner, his large arms swaying in slow, threatening arcs as the two men stared at each other in anticipation. The larger 'borg's voice was gravely and broken sounding as he tried to speak again.

"I remember you… police-man… Army offered you limitless power and what do you do with it…? Nothing. Bleating about your rights? Your friends? Pretending you're still… human?" His laughter sounded like grinding gears. "Coward. Still following your police-slut around like a dog in heat… If you're a good boy, does she let you get a lick in reward?" The suddenly loquacious 'borg let his tongue hang out of his mouth to emphasize the vulgar question, proving that like Briareos, his tongue was probably the most obviously 'normal' thing left of his original body.

Deunan rolled her eyes at the harassment, more than a little tempted to remind the former marine captain that Briareos still had the equipment to do the job properly, and didn't have to be content with licking. Still with Tomahawk's attention entirely focused on his attempt to piss off her partner, it gave _her_ the chance to get closer without another mud-ball to the face. She smirked to herself as she carefully moved into his now-damaged peripheral vision. Besides, she smiled wider as she glanced over at her partner, any number of meth-addicts and crack-heads had failed for years to get a barb under her tin-man's thick skin. Un-like her, his patience in dealing with the ranting of madmen was near legendary. True to form, Briareos was checking his knuckles for damage, ignoring the larger cyborg with ease.

"Too late to play soldier now!" Tomahawk crowed to his indifferent audience. "Weakling! You think you can defeat me? I am a god!" Frustrated by his opponent's lack of reaction to his taunting, the larger cyborg scooped up another two fistfuls of wet muck and threw them one after the other at her partner.

"… don't believe in gods." Briareos finally responded, pointing out the weakness in the big man's threats. He was obliged to shift his stance however, shielding his face with his forearms from the messy attack. Tomahawk continued scooping and shouting with increasingly unintelligible insults, his momentary lucidity overwhelmed by what looked like the mother of all tantrums.

It would have been funny if not for the fact that the mud underfoot started quivering and churning at the same time. All but frothing in his rage, Tomahawk was using both arms _and_ legs to lash out once more. Briareos suddenly sank down a good foot into the soft surface, cursing in surprise as he struggled with something out of sight beneath his feet. Tomahawk sank as well, tilting backwards at an angle as he shifted his odd body underground in order to continue his attack. Deunan pulled her machete off her back, reversing her grip on the blade in order to throw it across the clearing. "Bri! Catch!"

The long knife looked like a toy in his muddy hands, but her cyborg wasted no time in jabbing it downwards into the soft soil, using it to defend himself as best he could. Deunan trusted her lighter weight to keep her from sinking into-range of the mad cyborg's mud-bound feet. Torn between wanting to get to Briareos to help him directly and wanting to avoid becoming a second victim to the grasping mud, Deunan hesitated half way to his side. Taking on the titan alone seemed like a great way to get mashed, but getting closer to her partner seemed equally bad strategy. Tomahawk leaned further backwards still and finally one of his freakish limbs emerged from the muck. Mangled and dripping hydraulic fluid, the cyborg's 'borrowed' legs were considerably worse for the wear. Neither the fall nor the landmines buried in the mud had been kind to him. The frog leg looked almost alive with its artificial skin torn off in places to expose the muscle-like braid of cables and wires that made up its inner assembly.

Tomahawk was tilted like a drunkard as he sought to catch Briareos and crush him with his foot. Seeing an opportunity at last, Deunan drew her spare gun, wondering if she could get far enough left of the monster to blind him on his other side. His constant twisting and swaying made getting a good shot in nearly impossible. Briareos dropped the machete in favor of using his long-barreled rifle as a shield against Tomahawk's oversized toes. Throwing his shoulder against the grasping digits, braving the muddy, multi-jointed toes, he worked to push forward, forcing Tomahawk to overbalance completely. Tipping him, Deunan realized, would be perfect. Half buried in mud already, if they could pin him further he'd be all but immobilized. Their trap might just be worth the trouble of digging it in the first place. Glancing around for rope, or anything she could use to assist she cursed as she found nothing immediate in reach. Everything they had was already used in the secondary trap hiding in the trees. Circling back, she did what she could, spotting one of the cyborg's rear-facing eyes and completing her work from earlier in blinding him on the right.

With two toes temporarily blocked by the barrel of his weapon, Briareos concentrated his strength on the third. Bending the oversized appendage backwards in its socket, he made an earnest effort to break the motors controlling the former-tank's toe joint at the same time as pushing Tomahawk backwards. His efforts sank him somewhat as well; the ground beneath his feet not firm enough to hold up against the raw force he was applying. Deunan swore again, seeing there was no real effect for all his efforts. Some counter-leverage would be required or they'd never tip the asshole. Without thinking of the risk involved, she gave up on the futile effort of shooting the 'borg and worked her way closer to do something more pro-active. The trick, she decided was to find a way to help Briareos with the lunatic without getting grabbed herself. A loud metallic 'crack' from behind her made her wince and have second thoughts. It was the rifle that had broken, not her partner, but it was a small consolation. The gun proved less durable at last than Tomahawk's giant toes, the weapon collapsing like a broken toothpick.

"Briareos?" Deunan cursed their luck again. Where the hell was their backup? All she could think to do was to somehow keep going, pull apart the remaining trap in order to salvage the rope. Lasso Tomahawk's head and somehow winch him to the ground while Briareos pushed. They had to get the better of the titan before he squished them both flat.

"Fuck," was Briareos' only commentary on his suddenly perilous situation. Too distracted to even notice her worry, he had his hands full in a literal sense, struggling to hold Tomahawk at bay as the toes closed around him and started to squeeze. Electric motors whined audibly and the air ionized the scent of overheated circuitry on both sides as the pair of cyborgs struggled to prove once and for all whom of them was stronger. Deunan watched the large toes slowly tightening their grip and realized the only thing she could honestly do to help the situation was to do something _really_ distracting.

A gun wasn't going to cut it. But Briareos had teased her when she'd packed for their fight about carrying 'everything but the kitchen sink' for good reason. She'd known all along that there was no way her usual tactic of going toe-to-toe with the perp was going to work. Therefore she'd filled her vest pockets with anything and everything that might prove handy. A moment of patting and Deunan found what she was looking for. A military-grade taser, usually used by peacekeepers in urban pacification missions seemed the most likely. She'd been hoping to save it for after the ass was less armored, but at the rate they were going there wouldn't be a better time.

Deunan made herself ignore Briareos' strained noises of distress as he wrestled, but he was never more than a thought away as she tripped and stumbled her way over the uneven ground to get closer to her target. The non-lethal weapon couldn't do long distances, but up close it packed a considerable punch. The trick was to get a clear shot of someplace that'd actually _hurt_. Taking her chance, Deunan aimed and fired the first prong of the taser directly into the soft rubber beneath Tomahawk's jaw. The handset clicked to 'green' the moment the barb pierced his 'skin' letting her know that conductive-material was found. She jabbed the trigger without hesitation, not wanting Tomahawk to notice and rip the fragile wire away before she could act.

Enough voltage to take down one fury-addled berserker of a coke-addict raced along the filament and straight into Tomahawk's neck. The cyborg twitched and spasamed on contact, flailing in surprise as his subsystems went temporarily schizoid with the unexpected electrical stimulus. Not strong enough to slag him, or honestly even enough to do him any real harm at all, Deunan suspected the hit still stung like hell.

Glancing over her shoulder, Deunan sighed in relief to see that in the momentary chaos, Briareos had fallen free of Tomahawk's grip. His shirt and jacket were torn and he was coated in mud, but he was moving himself out of the way without mishap. Any injuries he'd sustained were impossible to see under all the filth.

"You in one piece?" She called over to him as she rapidly primed the little device for a second shot. Pure luck let her plant the taser's second barb directly into the fragile circuitry between Tomahawk's eyes. She grinned at her good fortune as she thumbed the firing stud again, granting the mad cyborg another jolt of pure electrical mayhem to the frontal cortex. Shielded or not, that one had to have reached what was left of his biological organs, she told herself. Again Tomahawk's body went haywire, arms flailing wildly as he screamed at the shock. Sparks visibly arced along the plating covering his skull, smoke coming out of the cracks as he frantically swatted at his face to remove the source of his discomfort.

"I'll live." Briareos panted in dazed agreement as he watched their captive twitch and snarl in frustrated rage. "Bad news is… so'll he."

"Clear below!" A very welcome shout from the trees behind them made them turn and stare over their shoulders and then at each other in surprise. Addled from all their frantic scrambling, Deunan looked around in sudden paranoia. She couldn't remember precisely _where_ 'part 2' of their trap was, and more importantly, which way it was pointed.

"_Move_. Deunan." Briareos's terse command jarred her into action.

Half-stumbling, half-running back over the churned mud she followed his lead. The ground firmed up nicely as they retreated from Tomahawk's sphere of influence. Deunan used the opportunity to shed several spent weapons, including the now-defunct taser. Idly she wished she'd brought two more of the evil little toys. Shocking the shit out of the oversized-ex-marine had been kind of fun in its way. Moving her next most-likely weapons into easily accessible locations she almost missed the popping creak of timber from within the canopy nearby. Briareos tapped her shoulder and pointed, pushing her now battered machete back into her hands as he reminded her that there was _one_ trick she really didn't want to miss.

The vertical shadow of the long trunk emerged with silent drama from between the leaves and fronds. Briareos moved even as it did, brave enough, or perhaps just pissed enough, that he was ready to go back on the offensive even as the trap was sprung. Deunan reached blindly for him to stay put where it was safe, but couldn't tear her eyes away from the outrageous sight before her. Hernando was hanging on to the top of the rustic battering-ram, riding it down with a maniac grin visible even with his beard. It was too dreamlike to be believed. Only the creaking groan of the flexing timber felt real. The idea of a few thousand kilos of green-lumber collapsing downwards at speed and then rolling – or splitting – off to god knew where, gave her a surge of adrenaline. Could Tomahawk dodge it? Would he notice it in time? She doubted it.

Even as she tensed in anticipation, watching Hernando sailing by in a near soundless arc, part of her worried that there was only so much more she or the old man could do to help with the fight. She'd stopped Tomahawk's guns, and led him to the pit… but there had to be something more proactive she could do than just stand back where it was safe and watch Briareos wrestle with the lunatic again. Seeing Hernando carelessly throwing himself into the fray made her itch to do more herself. If only the 'borg's arms were out of commission, she groused to herself, then she might get a few kicks in without every rib in her chest being crushed, but otherwise?

Still, the trunk's fall was like something out of a cartoon. Deunan felt a bubble of adrenaline-fueled laughter rise in her throat at the way Tomahawk abruptly looked up, noticing for the first time the shadow that had fallen across his body. She was almost able to hear his mental 'huh?' right before the crashing timber knocked him flat back into the mud. Blessedly the log rolled down the hill and away from where she stood, but not before both pinning and battering the crap out of Tomahawk. The cyborg twitched weakly where he lay. The up-thrust portion of his tank-body crushed flat against what ought to have been his pelvis. The rest of him was pushed so deep down into the mud that the surrounding dirt formed a Tomahawk shaped depression when he dazedly groaned and levered himself upright again.

Deunan cursed at his absurd durability. Not even an arm knocked off for all their trouble? It just wasn't fair. Briareos didn't seem surprised. Vaulting up onto the broken cyborg's chest, he drove the man downwards a second time, administering a ruthless kick to Tomahawk's jaw. Again, the cyborg's head snapped sideways with killing-force, and again the big bastard seemed to just shake it off. His neck had to be made of reinforced titanium, she decided. Machete in hand, she cursed as she moved in to assist, determined that this time he wouldn't face Tomahawk alone. This time they had Hernando too. She smiled at the sight of the crazy old man closing in on Tomahawk's other side, seemingly with the same thought as her.

With no choice but to defend himself with both arms from Briareos' assault, Tomahawk was vulnerable at last. Hernando was hacking at the bastard on the left. She dug the tip of her blade into Tomahawk's side on the right. The first hose came free from his body with a rank smell. Jetting its content out at high pressure, the flailing tubing disgorged a mess of disgusting sludge. Deunan ducked and cursed as she was splattered, not pausing in prying up the next likely looking bit of hose. She made a mental note to joke with Briareos later about putting her foot up Tomahawk's tailpipe. Hydraulic fluid poured out of the second connection she cut free, the third looked like a mass of communication fiber. Getting into a rhythm, Deunan grinned to herself as she methodically continued to do her part to pull the enormous cyborg to pieces.

"Ants! G-g-get off of me!" Tomahawk twisted and howled as he grappled with Briareos. Freeing a hand he managed to slap her partner across the face. What ought to have been a nearly comical maneuver was made terrifying by the sheer force of the blow. Deunan flinched at the sting of a dozen sharp pieces of shrapnel as Briareos' face broke in places and spread in an arc over her. He couldn't take another hit like that. She worried frantically as she shielded her eyes. Tomahawk's neck might be invulnerable, but she didn't want to test Briareos' if she could help it. She only got a glimpse of the damage. His jaw guard was buckled and bent into his face, one of his lenses cracked and shattered.

"Briareos?" She couldn't help but ask. He growled wordlessly too focused on their target to notice her, twisting and balling his fist even as she watched, returning Tomahawk's blow with one equally destructive to the cyborg he had half-pinned. Deunan identified several cabled that looked important hiding between the panels of Tomahawk's outstretched arm. She grimly hoped that one or more of them would affect his muscle control. Stabbing upwards into the tightly bound nest she hacked through several of the smaller wires and leaned against her blade to pry several more out of their sockets. Tomahawk's disgruntled shout let her believe that she was doing _some_ good. She crouched and ducked as he tried to knock her back with a thrust of his giant elbow.

Briareos was obliged to shift himself with their increasingly violent struggle, trying his best to regain the manic borg's free hand and keep him contained while she and Hernando worked. Their CO was cutting and cursing like a man half his age, jamming his long knife deep into Tomahawk's elbow, effectively freezing the joint before he wrapped arms and legs around one of the cyborg's giant arms and using his whole body to attempt to help wrestle it into captivity. Tomahawk abruptly twisted and flexed, catching the old man by the shoulder with a bark of laughter. Before either Hernando or Briareos could counter his trick, the cyborg soldier twisted again, carrying the smaller man easily off his feet and throwing him in one smooth motion. Hernando sailed backwards into the trees with a choked shout, chucked across the clearing as easily as a child's toy by Tomahawk's absurd strength. Deunan winced at the distant crunch of underbrush, and the sound of a human colliding at-speed with the ground. She prayed he'd found a relatively soft bit of dirt to land on. If he'd hit a tree, her CO was probably dead by now.

From lying relatively flat under Briareos' knees to upright once more, Tomahawk abruptly gained the upper-hand again. Still held in the mud, the mad cyborg rolled forward abruptly, Briareos trapped beneath his hands, returning some of the punishment he had inflicted earlier. Her partner was flagging, now obliged to defend herself from the cyborg's erratic attacks. His feet slipped and slid on the larger soldier's metal body as he tried to hold the man off with his legs in order to avoid taking a direct hit.

Deunan threw herself at Tomahawk's back by instinct. Pressing against his spine she made a bet with herself that unlike Briareos, the large cyborg's damaged limbs, and overall stature would make the small of his back both the 'safest' and potentially most damaging position for her to attack from. Hernando's dagger was still limiting the mobility of one of the oversized madman's arms. Deunan pulled a boot-knife and drove it deep between the dented plates of his right shoulder, effectively immobilizing the cyborg against reaching behind him to stop what she was about to do. "Hang on handsome!" She encouraged her partner, knowing things couldn't be great for him on the receiving end of the titan's fists. Cutting the bastard's head off wasn't feasible without some sort of chainsaw, but she had other, subtler weapons left in her arsenal.

Palming the cyborg's semi-legally obtained key in her left hand, and the thin bladed knife she'd lifted from the cafeteria in her right, Deunan chipped through the accumulated gore coating Tomahawk's back in order to force one of the many plates of his back loose. Briareos' cry of distress on the opposite side of their foe's chest made her work faster, prying a second, and then a third bit of protective plating free.

Beneath the armor, Tomahawk was just as disgusting as above. Months of congealed blood and mess had worked into all his seams, coating much of his inner machinery and forming a gummy sort of mud. Between the former marine's struggling, and the filth, it was hard to tell what exactly she was looking for. Deunan cursed the stench as it filled her nose, making her want to be sick all over again.

"What are you doing back there… little whore… trying to strip me, are you? It's not time for that yet!" Realizing the extent of the damage to his arms, Tomahawk howled in rage as he tried to reach for her. She'd underestimated his ability to twist however. Still maneuverable enough that he could turn at the waist to grab after her, Tomahawk chuckled nastily, voice more broken sounding than ever. "When I'm done crushing your boyfriend, Blondie, I'm going to enjoy listening to you scream. Hell… maybe I'll make him do it for me… that's be funny…"

"Deunan?" Half warning, half cry for help, Briareos sounded like he was in trouble. Peering over Tomahawk's shoulder she gasped at what she saw. Crippled as he was, Tomahawk's wrists had sprouted an ugly array of data cables, each bending snake like and weaving before plunging into the vulnerable areas around Briareos neck and face. Her partner grabbed frantically at the wires, tugging at them with desperate strength, but for every two he pulled free another sunk in. Furious, Deunan didn't even remember pulling her second boot knife, it was simply in her hand, ready, as she reached around Tomahawk's head and drove it angrily into his face.

"Drop him, asshole!"

"Stupid bitch." The 'borg laughed and shook Briareos like a rag-doll. "You think that'll hurt me? Watch close now… you wouldn't want to miss this." Carrying Briareos up off his feet he shook him again for good measure, parts of her partner breaking free from his rough treatment. "Squirm all you want, bug. I have won."

"No… You… haven't." Clutching at his head, rather than at the invasive wires, Briareos seemed to be struggling just to get the words out.

"The hell you have." Deunan added her vote. "Hold on, baby! I've got this!" Pulling her knife free from his face, she did the only thing she could really think of and drove it through the plastic shielding covering his power cells. A bank of four fuel cells arranged in a line where his kidneys ought to have been was exposed as she ripped the casing off. Not caring about the danger, she pried the first one loose with fingers and blade. The heat was outrageous. She bit back a scream at the sensation of her fingers scalding on contact with the beer-can sized cylinders of concentrated chemicals and electricity. Blinking past tears of pain she used both hands to rip out the second, then drove her knife in between the contact plates of the last two. Immediately an arc of electricity welded the thin metal to the terminals, all but jerking her arm out of its socket as she got momentarily shocked as well. The safety lights on the remaining cells flickered from green to red with the instantaneous overload she'd caused with her primitive short-circuit. With the knife blocking the mechanism, Tomahawk's safety fuses failed to disconnect the two batteries, allowing them to continue to back feed into eachother with increasingly dangerous amounts of current. Deunan blinked, seeing the small canisters actually swell and buckle a little, the batteries were going critical as she watched. Pressing her smoking fingers to her chest, Deunan rolled backwards and scrambled around the side of the flailing monster.

"Briareos?" She coughed and spat mud, trying to tell if she'd acted in time to help her battered partner. Without the energy to hold on to his prey any longer, Tomhawk dropped Briareos and sagged forward. A slur of curses and whining complaints emerged from the weakening 'borg as he tried to make uncooperative arms reach behind him to correct the damage.

Crawling over to where Briareos lay half sprawled in the mud Deunan shook his arm with fingers that felt both numb and blistered. "Baby? You still breathing?"

"I… think so." He replied after a moment's delay. Slowly pushing himself upright, he cocked his head and listened past Tomahawk's pitiful moaning. "Either I've taken one too many hits to the head… or I'm hearing… steam?"

"The fuel cells." Deunan gasped, suddenly worried they weren't far enough away. "They're gonna pop."

"The…what?" Still dazed, Briareos turned to stare at her. She gasped again at the extent of the damage now that she could see him head-on. Briareos looked as though he'd been attacked by a bear. Plating and cables around his head and neck were torn off, lenses and extendibles ripped free of his head all together in places, mangled past recognition in others. He was visibly sparking when he turned to stare back at the hulking wreck of the cyborg undergoing system failure above them. Tomahawk's power packs chose that moment to burst with an audible bang and loud hiss. Deunan rolled again, instinctively curling into a ball to protect her face from any potential fallout from the acids boiling out of the cyborg's back as they vaporized on contact with the damp jungle air. The clearing suddenly picked up the strong tang of heavy metals and then she caught the first whiff of the unmistakeably caustic sent of dissolving plastics.

She sense more than saw the suddenly looming shadow that covered both of them. Briareos surged upwards to shield her even as she instinctively crawled on elbows and knees to escape. "You c-c-c-can't stop muh-muh-me." Tomahawk stuttered and twitched as he tried to use the last of his strength to crush down on both of them. Deunan got clear and rolled on her sides, panting with the strain of the morning, and the pain lancing down her arms. Looking over her shoulder she gaped at the sight of the two cyborgs, each with their hands locked around each other's heads. Where Tomahawk was getting the energy from was a mystery. She cringed at the sound of metal crunching, unable to tell which side it was on. Smoke continued to curl out of Tomahawk's back. The acid, she realized, had ceased to boil, but it was probably still there, eating its way into anything and everything it touched. Tomahawk was a dead man, she figured, once the acid penetrated his bio pack, it was just a question of how long it would take for him to notice.

"Just. Die. Already." Briareos wheezed, forcing the oversized cyborg back, as battered as the madman in his way. Hoses and wires dangled from his arms as he slowly overpowered Tomahawk. Deunan couldn't say a thing, almost drunk with exhaustion as she stared in awe at the way the former marine's face slowly buckled beneath her partner's fingers. Lenses popped and metal crumpled as Briareos didn't let up the pressure, bringing his hands together with grim determination. Tomahawk's flailing grew weaker and less coordinated with every metallic pop and crack. Sparks, hydraulic fluid, and finally blood, squeezed out between her partner's fingers from what was left of Tomahawk's collapsing face. Breath no more than a gurgle, the large cyborg's limbs dropped limply to the earth at last.

"Bri…" She crawled forwards, unable to watch him squeeze any further. "Briareos… he's done… You can let go…" When even that didn't seem to get through to him she reached out to shake his arm, leaving a muddy, bloody handprint on his already ruined shirt. "Briareos… please… stop."

He turned to look for her almost as if surprised to find her so near. "Deunan?" She smiled painfully at the way he tilted his head, trying to find her with half his eyes damaged. "Deunan-girl? Where are you…?"

"Here." Leaning against him she heaved herself to her feet, moving to his good – relatively good – side so that he could see her properly. Three out of four of his standard 'eyes' looked all but destroyed, two of them dangling loosely from their wires, the whole socket shattered beyond repair. She tried to clean the mud from the best looking of the lot for him, but her fingers left streaks behind. Looking down at her hands she marveled that what she could see under the layer of filth looked like nothing so much as raw meat. The heat from the cells had burned the skin right off her palms and fingers? No wonder why they hurt so bad. She giggled softly to herself, half giddy from the pain and stress.

"You're hurt?" How Briareos was able to talk, with his jaw half broken, she couldn't say. Leaning in again, she rested her cheek against his a moment, glad to be alive. He nudged her with his shattered face, encouraging her to answer. "Kitten? I can't hear very well… My ears are ringing like you wouldn't believe…"

"I'm alright. All things considered." She leaned back, enunciating for his sake. If he couldn't hear, at least he'd be able to lip-read. "How about you? How bad is it?"

"Yellows." He summarized his system status pithily. "A few reds. Nothing too serious, don't worry about me." Briareos wheezed when he breathed. Deunan studied him carefully, wondering if he was lying to her. Then again, the wheezing was probably the result of his visibly cracked nose-filter. Either way there was nothing she could do other than get him back to base as soon as she could. He seemed to read her thoughts, peering myopically over at the dead cyborg lying next to them. "Are we done?"

"Yeah baby." She laughed again, resting again against his shoulder. "We're so done."

"Good." He sighed audibly, sitting back on his heels as he draped a weary arm around her hips, holding her against his chest. "I feel like shit…"

"Don't suppose you can see well enough to find Hernando's heat signature for me?" She forced herself onto her feet before she lost the will to get moving. If the old man was still alive, he'd know best how to get help. If he wasn't, she grimaced at the thought, he had been wearing the only long range radio.

Briareos turned his head carefully, inspecting the trees around them. Even as a corpse, Hernando'd still be warm enough to find, she told herself. After a moment's searching he pointed her wordlessly in the right direction before letting his arm drop. "Whatever we're doing, we need to do it soon. I'm leaking like a sieve."

"Sit tight." She agreed. "I'll find out about Hernando… get the packs… make some repairs to you… then we'll move out." Staggering through the dense leaves, she tucked her hands beneath her arms to apply pressure. She'd need Bri's help, she mused, to make a pair of mittens, or tourniquets or something. With her hands dripping freely she'd pass out before long. Under-pressured and almost blind, her partner would make for a clumsy nursemaid, she resigned herself to the painful ordeal.

The trail of broken branches and twigs was obvious once she found her captain's entry point. Following the debris she crouched next to the old man, wincing sympathetically at the way one of his legs was bent unnaturally. An ugly break, she guessed, tentatively poking at his bloodied pants leg. Hernando wouldn't be walking anywhere anytime soon. Still, he had a pulse. That was something.

"Hey." She nudged him with the back of her hand, seeing if he could stir himself. "Oye. Capitan…" He groaned after a moment of prodding, weakly lifting his hands to the back of his head while muttering a string of latin curses. Deunan sat on her heels and offered him a smile when he finally blinked dazedly up at her. "Concussion?" She asked.

"Surprised to still have a head at all…" He mused. The old man tried to sit up. "Dios, my legs… ah this is no good…"

"The other one too?" Deunan sighed in acceptance, one broken bone or two. It amounted to the same thing. They'd have to carry him out. She watched him fuss with his head and try and sort out his legs when a pragmatic thought occurred to her. "How're your hands?"

"Fine." He looked at her as if she was daft, clearly wondering why she wasn't being more helpful. Looking down at her mangled appendages he hissed in sudden sympathy. "Christo. You're a mess. Your man?"

"A bit smashed but ok. I think we can sling you across his back and walk you out. But we'll need to splint you first… and you'll have to help me… help him…"

"The monster? Mr. Thomas?"

"Squished." She confirmed his expectation, amused at his sigh of relief. "I'll bring your pack over… if you can bind me up, I'll try and help set your bones… then piggyback you over to the big-guy."

Somehow between the two of them, they managed to patch each other up enough to manage for the short term. Deunan double-lashed her CO's legs together along with the straightest branches she could scrounge as a temporary splint by shredding his pants to ribbons and then her own. The end result wasn't exactly comfortable looking, but then neither were the makeshift pair of mittens he'd fashioned for her. Still it was good enough, and he did her the favor of not bitching too much as she got him up onto her back and half crawled, half staggered her way back through the underbrush to where Briareos was lurching slowly around their kill, blindly pawing at the ground as he looked for something they'd dropped.

"Hernando's still got a working pair of hands." She reported as she carefully lowered the old man to the ground. "His legs are shot, but I figure… if he can stop your leaks… you can probably carry him."

"Yeah." Briareos nodded, stooping one last time to retrieve a canister from the mud. Deunan blinked, recognizing one of the power cells she'd ripped out of Tomahawk's chest.

"What're you going to do with that?" She dragged the second pack closer to Hernando so that he could fish in side it for painkillers and tools.

"…Going to have the old man here finish what we started…" Her partner kicked a clod of dirt over to them, which broke apart after the first two rolls to reveal one of her dropped hand-guns. "I'd ask you to do it, but I don't think your hands would take it right now…" He set the fuel cell into the still smoking hollow in the middle of Tomahawk's back. Seeing his meaning, Hernando picked up the gun and knocked the last of the dirt out of the barrel, taking aim as soon as Briareos stepped out of the way.

"Better safe than sorry." He quipped roughly as he pulled the trigger. Cursing in Spanish as he missed, he caught the battery dead on with his second shot, causing another fizzy eruption of violently reactive chemicals to spill out and finish the work of dissolving the majority of Thomas White's chest, both organic and inorganic. By morning, Deunan mused, he'd probably be little more than a toxic residue and an empty metal shell. Good riddance, she told herself firmly. Still, the after image of Bri's hands, locked around the madman's collapsing skull stayed with her as she walked Hernando through the necessary repairs to her partner's battered knees and calves.

They couldn't seal Briareos' system completely. There were just too many bad linkages, but the biggest problems were addressed. Groaning like a wounded thing, Briareos knelt down and fumblingly helped their captain up onto his back. Deunan took the precaution of lashing the old man's arms together at the wrist, not trusting his fatigued body to hang on without help for more than a few steps. True to her fears, the old man passed out before Briareos had done more than stand up.

She worried her own bandages loose with her teeth until she could free up the index finger on her right hand. With Hernando down, and Bri operating at one-sixth capacity, it fell to her to run point. She slipped her pack over her shoulders, then her automatic rifle, checking to see that she could still hold the trigger if she had to. The second two bags went around Briareos' neck, making him look even more like a pack mule than he already did with Hernando draped over his back. Leading on Briareos' blind side, she prayed they didn't walk into anything nasty as she alternately checked the radio and the compass. Confident that they'd find the road, she tried not to think about how long a walk it would be if someone wasn't there to meet them. "Let's go, big guy." She guided him forwards with a gentle touch on his arm.


	10. Chapter 10

The walk back to the road was a complete blur. Deunan blinked to find herself airborne, strapped into a helicopter with the buzz of conversation all around her. Another blink and she was all but carried down a brightly lit corridor, people still shouting back and forth as they argued over where to put Hernando and where to begin with Briareos. Shrugging off the overly helpful hands she lifted her elbow to her face so that she could wipe off some of the sweat and grime stinging her eyes. Glancing around, she focused on the most likely source of help, in the form of a concerned looking young nurse. "Water?"

"Of course, Lieutenant." The girl agreed. "Sit down please?"

As if watching as a video played back at half-speed was cranking up to real-time, Deunan found her wits ready to recover as she sucked down her drink one straw-full at a time. The clinic slowly became recognizable despite the chaos. Individual doctor's faces suddenly became familiar. She shook her head, amazed at having zoned out with everything going on. Shock, she told herself, bemused now that she could think straight again. So much for telling herself she was unflappable, clearly she still had a ways to go.

"Where's Briareos?" She asked as soon as the straw was taken away. "He ok?"

"They're treating him now." The nurse nodded earnestly. "We need to get a look at your hands though. Do you have any other injuries? Do you mind if we run you through scanner just to be sure?"

"Whatever." Too tired to care particularly what happened next she let the orderlies fuss over her, peeling off her muddy pants and boots, cutting away her layered shirts until she was obliged to don a hospital smock for the sake of any wandering old-boys who might barge in and get an eyeful. Laying back when bid and passed into the narrow imaging apparatus she felt as though she were still partly sleepwalking. Her brain only able to cope with so much activity at one time before the rest got filtered out as irrelevant.

She didn't honestly give a crap. Muscles she hadn't thought about in years were aching and sore from her constant scrambling through the sticky mud. Sweaty, and filthy, all Deunan wanted was long hot soak in a tub. Preferably after her hands were wrapped up in something impermeable to water so the soap wouldn't sting her mangled fingers, she sighed. Just about when she was going to ask, the nurses steered her to a seat and produced workbench covered with burn-care equipment. As the first step in the process of cleaning up involved submerging her throbbing hands in a vat of icy-cold feeling blue gel, Deunan decided she wasn't in a hurry for her bath after all. She sighed in relief at the soothing sensation. Resting her head on her arm, Deunan happily slouched across the table to let the woman work.

The combination of painkillers, her quiet corner of the hospital and general exhaustion let Deunan return to her semi-aware state for what felt like a good hour. Every now and again, she'd open her eyes to check her nurse's progress. The poor woman had the thankless job of fishing out a couple hundred splinters, pebbles, and bits of crap from her ground-beef looking hands, and was actually managing to both get the job done, and even hum while she worked. Deunan couldn't watch for more than a minute without getting queasy, so put her head back down. Closing her eyes she could make out the distant sound of Hernando cursing unintelligibly in Spanish down the hall, and the obnoxious high-pitched whine of heavy machinery from where people were probably working on her poor tin-man. The way some of his plating had been damaged, she mused to herself, they'd have to crack or even cut it off of him to get at the broken assemblies underneath.

What a mess. Barely more than a week after being reassembled in the first place, and he already needed a full overhaul. She hoped they'd given him a double-shot of narcotic first so that he could just sleep through the process. As tired and battered as either she or their CO, Briareos, didn't deserve to be obliged to help with his own triage.

The more she thought about it, the more annoyed she became. They'd fixed him up to top-shelf condition probably for no other reason than to send him off to tangle with Tomahawk. It'd had nothing to do with common courtesy, or decency in taking on a damaged new-hire and making him feel at home. Heck, the whole reason they even been welcome _here_ was so that the commanders could smash the two 'borgs together like a kid with a pair of toy-trucks in order to see which one would break.

Probably, they were sorry Briareos had come back alive at all.

The thought sent a chill down a spine, waking her up completely for a moment. Deunan blinked and stared at the smooth steel surface of the table she was leaning across. How much time had passed, she couldn't tell. But her brain was suddenly moving at light speed.

In an ideal world, the base commanders would have wanted _both_ cyborgs dead. After what Captain White had done on his one-way trip to crazy-town? In Comacalco, _any_ Hectonchires AI had to be seen as a threat, regardless of who had it… Especially if they were betting better-than-even money on Briareos going 'round the twist, just as Tomahawk had the year before. Cyborg-age wise, they were only two years apart. Her stomach flip-flopped as she tried to make sense of everything now that the pressing need to concentrate on Tomahawk was done.

They'd hired her and her partner and brought them in… why? Was it just because they could be bought for cheap? Because with their backgrounds, they wouldn't think twice about volunteering to 'put down' an obvious criminal when asked? She grimaced, acknowledging that her desperation to fit into their new home, and to a lesser extent Briareos' desire to enjoy some civilization, or maybe just keep her happy, had probably led them into yet another bad situation.

Honestly the idea of pitting twin against twin in a solo battle wasn't all that harebrained when looked at in a risk-reward kind of way. The locals had probably tried all the usual tactics with Tomahawk… armored infantry, aerial assault, snipers… somehow he'd outwitted them, or just plain outgunned them. Added to that, from what she's seen since joining up, the army was all about poetic-yet-ridiculous gestures. So when the opportunity came to 'fight fire with fire' and pit one of Dr. Zand's monsters up against another? They'd probably thought it was a great fucking idea.

The problem was that their plan had worked. Deunan winced as a particularly painful poke tweaked her scalded nerve endings. Sure they'd beat up the 'bad guy' but where did that leave them? Did she and Briareos have any value left to the base? Or were they now _completely_ expendable?

Just because the doctors had done a great job putting Briareos together the first time, her paranoia whispered to her with uncanny reasonableness, didn't mean they had to do it twice.

They could just as easily _say_ they were fixing him, and do it in such a way that he just stopped working all together. 'Too bad. So sad,' her conscience hissed, imagining what the likely reaction on base would be to such an unfortunate-accident. 'Don't listen to his partner, she's been emotionally compromised from the start… She got off lucky. Did you hear about the others?'

Doubtless they'd be all helpful and supportive as hell, provided she went along with it and agreed that they'd tried their hardest. Would they do her the honor of benching her like a good little widow? Or would they just keep sending her out into the trees to hunt tanks until she did them a favor one day and didn't come back?

Suddenly the sound of drilling from down the hall made her a lot less comfortable.

She shouldn't have left him. Deunan swallowed and tasted bile, her throat dry with her growing alarm. Stupid. So fucking stupid. Why had she even thought for a second she could trust these people? What did she honestly know about them, other than the fact that they'd functionally bribed her with clean linen and good food to kill a random wacko giving them trouble? What, other than common human decency, was to stop them from 'repairing' Briareos back down to component parts and spinning her some line later about how 'he couldn't be saved'? Adrenaline gave her the kick-start she needed to overcome fatigue, all but tipping her nurse out of her chair as she abruptly stood up.

"Sorry," she bluntly told the startled woman. "There's something I've got to check on."

"But-"

As if waiting for her to pay attention, a tremendous crash and a flurry of frightened shouts came from down the hall. Deunan closed her eyes and cursed again before ripping out her IVs and making for the door. More shouting and several thuds didn't bode well for the situation in the cybernetics ward.

"Ma'am! Wait!" The girl behind her was still trying to untangle from her tools and give chase.

Deunan shouldered the door open, finding her hands stiff and uncooperative - not to mention slippery - from the anesthetic goop they were coated in. Stepping into the hallway just in time to be nearly trampled by a pair of sprinting orderlies, she resolutely moved the other way. Someone was shouting about an out-of-control-cyborg. The rest of the emergency orders garbled by subsequent crashes and yelling.

A pair of marines trotted down the hall, cutting around her in order to enter the lab where Briareos was. She caught the swinging security door on her elbow, forcing it to stay open long enough for her to slip in after them. Seeing one of the two soldiers raise his weapon as if to do something stupid, Deunan applied her elbow again, this time to his kidneys. The first guy cursed and twisted, allowing her to drive the heel of her hand into his nose. It hurt like crazy, but got her point across remarkably well. Stunned and spraying blood, the officer crumpled to the floor even as his teammate turned to stare at her in amazement. Too rushed for finesse, Deunan kneed him where he'd feel it and then tried to put together some sort of sense from the chaos as he went down with a squeak next to his gurgling friend.

The lab looked like it'd been abruptly flipped over. Carts, tools and bits of cyborg were scattered all around the floor. Various medical personnel huddled together in corners and hid in the glass-paneled booth on the side of the room. All of them were making too much noise as they panicked. Deunan marked two crumpled forms in lab-coats sagging against one wall with a sense of grim foreboding, but didn't move to check on them right away. Briareos was the bigger worry. Standing, barely, he visibly wavered as he shuffled in place at the epicenter of the destruction. She could hear his breathing, the rough, frightened pace of his wheezing enough to warn her of his state of mind. Her tin-man was spooked, worse than spooked. He was probably right at the edge of a full-fledged panic himself. She couldn't guess what the hell had happened in the hours she'd been selfishly comatose, but it hadn't been good.

One of the orderlies, either braver, or stupider, than his friends was trying to get behind her partner. Whether the guy was trying to get a jump on him, or trying to deactivate him, she didn't care to find out. Deunan opened her mouth to tell him to back off, but Briareos moved even faster, twisting and lunging. He had the medic by the shirt and dangling a foot above the floor before the man realized what was happening. To her amazement, he then growled a long diatribe at the terrorized orderly in a language that was anything but English.

The Russian sounded magnificently threatening, she almost smiled at the gothic eloquence of it. If ever there was a language for cursing someone out in, his was it. To his credit, Briareos dropped his captive with an almost dismissive flick of his fingers instead of hurting him further, adding further critique to the cowering body in his native tongue before staggering around in a small circle as if trying to anticipate other interference.

He didn't know where he was. She blinked, reading his nervous body language despite his broken looking appearance. Quite possibly he didn't know _when_ he was, was the more alarming thought. If he was addled enough to forget he was in America, there was no telling _what_ assumptions he was operating under. He couldn't see well, he couldn't hear… he could barely stay oriented… no wonder he was panicking. She pursed her lips at how the flustered crowd was not helping in the slightest. They were all so freaked out about 'another mad cyborg' that they wouldn't even think to explore other root causes. If someone didn't take control of the situation soon, either Briareos would do something he'd really regret later, or worse, someone would start shooting. She sighed at how stupid it all was. Dad really had nailed it on the head, she supposed, when he described the army as a place where rational behavior went to die.

Normally she'd have put her fingers to her lips and whistled to make people shut up and listen. Sadly, with her fingers messed up she didn't have the luxury. Turning, she kicked the marine who was trying to crab walk to his dropped gun with a bare foot to get his attention. "You, don't even think about it. Where's your MP whistle?"

Seeing him gape up at her in incomprehension, she batted his hands away when he went to block her and pulled the silly tool out his coat herself. Her fingers slipped on the smooth surface, and the after taste of the gel was absolutely foul when she got it into her mouth, but the piercing shriek it produced when she blew into it was even better than nails down a chalkboard in terms of shutting people up. From disorganized frenzy to stunned silence in two seconds. She snorted in soft amusement as she let the toy fall away. Drawing a deep breath she used the pause in the mayhem to issue her first command.

"Everyone shut and sit the down! _Now_!"

She still had it. Deunan sighed in relief at how over half the group did as they were told on the first try. Back at the academy she'd gotten compliments on how good her 'voice of authority' had been, especially for a 'little girl her size', but she hadn't had to really use it in years. Maybe it was just being on the receiving end of so many of dear-old-dad's dress-downs, she didn't know. But somehow along the way she'd learned a way of projecting her voice that got idiots to pay attention. It wasn't as good, she mused to herself, as Briareos' parade-ground worthy bark, but then, he was a lot bigger than her, even back then. He had more to project _with_.

"He won't attack you if you don't threaten him." She continued in a softer tone once everyone shuffled to follow her command. "Just give him his space."

Blessedly Briareos, while not sitting, was at least standing still. He shuffled around to peer in her direction as if trying to hear her better. That was a good sign. He was confused, but not entirely out of it. If possible he looked even sorrier than he had when they arrived. Stripped of his ragged uniform, and most of his paneling, he was all exposed wires and bent armatures. Without his 'skin' he looked pretty damned inhuman. No wonder people were inclined to panic. Deunan told herself to man-up and deal with it. The last thing he needed was her freaking out on him too.

"Ok." She looked around to see room was nominally under her control. "Here's what we're going to do. You, and you… are to move _slowly_ to the two guys over on the wall, and check their condition… alright?" She picked two likely looking medics and pointed them over to the prone bodies on the far side of the lab. They looked to her for guidance and then at their fallen coworkers before carefully shuffling around the perimeter, trying to give Briareos as wide a berth as possible.

"The rest of you… I want to slowly, calmly, and by all means _quietly_ get the hell out of the room." She gestured to the group closest to the door, signaling that they should start. Probably at least half of them out-ranked her, she thought privately, but they were so happy to have _someone_ who seemed to know what to do, that they followed her orders without question. Turning at last to the pair of MPs that she'd been obliged to take down she smiled weakly. "Are you two able to hobble out of here?"

"What the fuck you do that for…" The man still clutching his groin complained at her. She winced apologetically, knowing it had been an unfair thing to do. "God damn it if he goes on a rampage…"

"He's not going to go on a rampage." She disagreed firmly. "All I stopped you from doing was letting you panic and open fire in a room full of civvies, ok? Trust me, you'd have really regretted that once you cooled off. Go outside and let a nurse find you an ice pack and some pills. While you're at it, tell the rest of the squad piling up out there that if they so much as twitch without my say-so, I'll personally punch every one of them in the same place you're cupping right now. And yes, you can write me up for the threat later, if it makes you feel better."

Deunan ignored the muttered 'crazy bitch' as the guy picked up his friend and retreated, turning her attention back on the cause of all the mayhem. Out of the corner of her eye she kept an eye on the two medics, now grimly dragging their friends along the far side of the room and towards the door. Briareos was still swaying, hunched down to almost half his height as he fought to keep his balance despite his failing subsystems.

Not for the first time, she kicked herself for not learning more than a few words of Russian back when she was a kid. For all the time they'd spent together while she was growing up, it'd just never seemed that relevant. Briareos' english had been perfect from the day they'd met. And even in laid-back California, American vs. Soviet Republic sentiment had been such that he'd never really wanted to flaunt his old language. He never really flaunted any of the languages he knew, she supposed. She'd _heard_ him speak German and French on the phone a time or two, and he'd easily questioned foreign nationals in their native languages when the need had arisen, but he never did it for fun. He'd certainly never encouraged her to be interested. Sadly that left her a bit lost in a situation like this. Probably he'd understand english, she mused, even if he didn't want, or remember how, to speak it.

"Hey baby." She figured she'd do what she could to coax him around. Luckily, she couldn't really get less threatening than she already was. Nothing said 'helpless' quite like a girl in a pastel hospital gown, she shrugged in resignation. "It's ok… They're gone. It's just us."

He twitched and shifted, still nervous as he tilted his head this-way and that. Deunan realized his problem with a feeling of disgust. He wasn't just mostly blind. He was completely blind. They'd taken his last eye away when they'd peeled his broken face-panels off. "Oh, Bri… They didn't do you any favors, did they. You're a mess, big-guy."

"Who?" He raised his hands cautiously, recognizing her enough to want to find her. "Where am I? Where are you?"

Stressed and confused, he sounded utterly pitiable. Deunan cursed silently at the morons who'd left him addled and blinded but not properly sedated. Whether intentional or not, it had been a stupid mistake on their part and she intended to flay them verbally, perhaps even physically, once she had her partner settled to her liking. "Hold still." She advised him. "I'm going to come to you. Can you hear me?"

"Yes." He agreed weakly. "It's quieter now."

"I told the plebs to take a hike." She couldn't help but smile at his visible fretting. "I'm coming over, don't be startled."

Padding barefoot around the bits of debris, she crossed over to his side. He was able to track her motion pretty well for a guy who was blind and half-deaf. Briareos' hand came up just as she was within reach, tentatively reaching for her. She tapped his fingertips with her own to give him confirmation, then let her hand slide over his wrist and up the exposed cabling of his arm. Without his 'skin' she wasn't sure how much of her touch he'd be able to feel, but it seemed to be enough. His arm fitted against her back as she stepped closer, coaxing her to his side even as she made her own way to him. Deunan wrapped both arms around his waist, giving him a firm squeeze to let him know she wasn't afraid of him.

"You know me." She encouraged him softly. "I'm Deunan. That crazy girl that's always tagging around after you, remember?"

"Deunan." He agreed with a sigh of relief. For a long minute he simply hunched over her, his wheezing breath a warming her hair as he held her against his chest. At length he stirred himself enough to try and figure out what was going on. "What… happened? Where are we?"

"We're in Mexico." She reminded him drily. "You were injured pretty badly in a fight… and… I won't let anyone hurt you anymore. So don't worry."

"Don't worry... she says. Idiot." He rubbed his face against her hair, addled but not completely without the ability to reason. "I… I thought- the KGB- but you… Mexico? Where's your father? Am I… dreaming?"

"No." Deunan reached up to stroke what was left of his face and neck, marveling at the damage revealed now that his plates were missing. There wasn't any blood, which in her mind was a marvel. Even with Tomahawk's assault, Briareos had managed to come through with his bio-pack intact. His questions made her worry that his brain had been badly rattled however. "No you're not dreaming, and there's no KGB here…"

Privately she wondered what the hell he'd done to get mixed up with Soviet goons. He'd never said anything about _that_ before. Then again, he did have Mr. MRF… and what could be more 'mysterious' and 'Russian' than a guy who worked for the KGB? Had circumstances been different, Deunan sighed, she would have exploited his dazed state to milk him for more information about his shadowy past. He'd never once given her a straight answer in all her years of pestering him about it. Sadly this was neither the time nor the place for such things.

"We're in the army now, remember?" She prompted gently; amazed that he was drawing a blank on the past two years. "We fought Tomahawk?" She encouraged him to recall recent events.

He simply shook his head, befuddled. "I don't… It's hard… to think…"

Deunan pursed her lips, not liking his condition at all. Either he was so badly concussed it was a marvel he could speak coherently at all, or… the doctor's had been half-way through trank-ing him for surgery and royally fucked up. "Bri? I'm going to holler for some guys waiting in the next room. I need you to be patient while I sort things out. It may be hard for you to follow, but trust that I'll take care of things, ok?"

"You, I trust." He agreed slowly, wrapping his arms a little closer around her as if worried she'd wander off and leave him stranded. She turned so she could see the door, but deliberately draped her hands over his arm, reassuring him that she was fine where she was.

"I need the OIC in here!" She barked loud enough to carry through the doors. "And the medical chief!"

A familiar looking doctor slipped into the room, eying her, or rather her partner warily. Right behind him was the Lt. Col. himself as well as a half-muster's worth of armed-to-the-teeth MP's. Briareos couldn't see the threat, but he could feel her tense. She rubbed his arm when he stirred behind her, silently urging him to be still. Deunan sighed at the evident overkill. "I didn't ask for the goons."

"I take the safety of the personnel on this base very seriously, Lt. Knute." Fuller remarked grimly. "Can you assure me that these men are not needed?"

"I can." She matched his look with one of her own, in no mood to play nice even to a senior officer. Looking over at the nervous doctor she frowned again. "What did you give him?"

"What do you…"

"You must have given Briareos _something_. To sedate him?" She jogged the man's memory. "That's standard procedure when doing major work on a 'borg… so what was it? And how much?"

The man blinked at her. "I not sure… whatever we had on hand… the anesthesiologist would know for certain… Why?"

Deunan rolled her eyes. "I want to talk to him then. Who is he?"

"Is there some purpose to this, Lieutenant?" Fuller raised an eyebrow as he dismissed one of his men to find the missing doctor.

"Not sure yet." She pursed her lips, reminding herself to be polite. It wasn't like she was certain that they were out to get her partner… it was all together possible that they were just criminally negligent. Turning back to the doctor she frowned again. "Why'd you remove his good eyes?"

"Young woman I am not accustomed to having my practices and procedures…"

"You blinded him." She cut off his defensive bluster with a hiss. "There was no reason for that. And I want to know what the hell you were thinking…. I don't think it's too much to ask… the risk of sensory deprivation alone… "

"There's not a single socket in that man's head that's not seriously damaged, lieutenant." The chief medic snapped back, not willing to play meek when his medical expertise was called into question. "The patient was sedated, or so we thought. We would have had at least half of them repaired before he even noticed the loss."

"So you did sedate him." She frowned again. Looking over her shoulder, she nudged Briareos. "How do you feel, big guy? Numb? Dizzy? Anything?"

"Fuzzy." He sighed, shaking his head slowly back and forth as if trying to collect his rattled wits. "Everything's fuzzy… Can't see…" Tilting his face down to her again he wheezed against her face. "Smell… blood? You hurt?"

"Just a few scrapes." She reassured him. Seeing that one of his eye sockets still looked reasonably intact, she clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth in annoyance. There was no point scrounging around in the junk on the floor when probably the quacks had a whole tray full of optics in a drawer somewhere. Turning back to the doctor she raised an eyebrow. "Don't suppose you can find the man an eye, huh? Seeing as how he's not sedated now?"

"We still haven't fixed…"

"Give him a god damned eye or I'm reporting you for a cybernetics ethics violation, you plodding ass!" She snarled, goading the man into action with volume alone.

"Do as she says, doctor." Fuller agreed thoughtfully. Watching the man retreat to the store room a moment, the older officer turned back to her with a frown of frustration. "You, Ms. Knute, I was warned would make a terrifyingly fierce advocate for cyborg rights. I see now what your former CO meant. While I appreciate your loyalty…"

"Briareos. Is not. Crazy." Deunan stated grimly. Taking a breath, she added a belated, "Sir."

Leaning back into her partner's heavy body behind her, she wondered what he was able to make of the fast moving conversation. Probably not very much, if he was narc'ed up to the ears the way she suspected he was. Poor Briareos, she sighed softly. When he came down out of the clouds later, he'd probably have the mother of all headaches. "These idiots mis-dosed him, that's all. Give any marine the wrong booster of tranquilizers and you'd get the exact same effect. The only difference is Briareos is bigger, and heavier…"

"And you're willing to stake your life on that?" Fuller stepped back, allowing the medic to step past him with a double-handful of peace-offerings. "Good intentions aside, Lieutenant, I don't think you realize the full gravity of this situation… we don't know for certain that your partner hasn't been… compromised by his recent contact with-"

"Get me the guy who dosed my partner up." Deunan vetoed him bitterly, "And then we'll see, won't we."

Her commander sighed in annoyance and looked towards the door, signaling to whoever he saw waiting that it was time to come in. Ignoring the new medic a moment in favor of selecting one of the lenses from the senior officer, Deunan carefully picked it up by the edges so she didn't smear goop across Briareos' field of view. Turning in his arms, she hooked a wrist around his neck to steady herself as she snapped the new piece into place. Thank god, she mused, her tin-man had taken the time once to show her how it was done. The procedure wasn't hard, but it wasn't exactly intuitive either. The locking rings of the eyepiece needed to mesh and snap into the inner edge of the socket to make good electrical contact while still allowing him free range of motion. Briareos shifted a little, disoriented by the sudden addition of visual stimulus after going without for a while.

"Easy." She chided him when he might have staggered. "Just stare straight ahead, you know how it goes… get your bearings before you try and look around."

"I'm… this is a hospital?" His genuine confusion made her wince all over again. Where had he thought they were? She probably didn't want to know. "Are we in LA?"

"Mexico." She reminded him again, more certain than ever that he was drugged. He was too coherent for a head injury.

Briareos stared around them, eventually focusing on their commander. "I know him. The other one too… he's a doctor…"

"Yup." She agreed. "Hush now. Let me figure this out, ok?"

"Alright." Far too obliging, her partner was dopey enough to let her do the talking without protest, seemingly bemused by the simple ability to look around properly. He kept his grip on her waist and shoulders, she realized with grim amusement. Not quite comfortable enough to risk letting her go yet, Briareos was doing what he could to shield her from the unexpected.

"What did you give him?" She turned her interrogation to the new arrival. Thinner and younger than his peer, the specialist blinked in alarm at her question. She sighed. "The cocktail you used to put him down before operating. What was in it?"

"The usual. Vall-2, RoB-60, muscle relaxants, anti-psychotics…"

"Anti-psychotics?" Deunan blinked in alarm. "Why?"

The senior medic sighed at her nosiness. "In case we have to crack his cranial plate, Lieutenant, we need a clean theta to test for faults in the nervous-system feedback loops the AI is monitoring… the easiest way to do that is to induce partial coma… It's completely harmless."

"Right." Deunan rubbed her face, and then wished she hadn't when she ended up with goop all down her nose. The gel was all but wiped off her hands. They'd begun to hurt fiercely again. "Ok, geniuses… do one last thing for me, and I'll chalk this whole situation up as an unbelievable-cock-up and forgive you for trying to kill my partner…"

"We're at your disposal, Ms. Knute." Fuller drawled, folding his arms across his chest.

She ignored him in favor of staring down the anesthesiologist instead, deciding he was the most likely culprit of her recent panic, and probably everyone elses' too. "Pull up Briareos' medical file. Right now." Watching the young doctor scuttle to the nearest computer, she waited while he fussed over the keyboard with nervous fingers. "Scroll down to the section of important, _urgent_, alerts about drug intolerances and interactions?"

"There." The medic found the necessary section, and reading ahead, paled visibly. "Oh… crap."

"Read it aloud?" Deunan suggested.

"Has abnormally high tolerance for RoB-class narcotics due to repeat exposure. Subject remains lucid even at double standard dosage. Recommended that alternate sedative such as AbV-class narcotic be used instead…"

Fuller's aggravated sigh was matched by the other medic's audible noise of outrage. Deunan closed her eyes in relief, sagging back against her partner's supportive grip. Still seemingly baffled by the whole affair, Briareos shifted to accommodate her, slipping back into German as he nuzzled her hair and muttered worried encouragements. Who did he think she was now? She smiled in tired amusement, accepting his support regardless of his befuddled state. It would have been funny, she supposed, if he hadn't almost gotten shot because of it. She'd seen him drunk before, but never high. As tired as she was, she almost wanted hang out with him while he was tripping, just so she could tease him for it later. He was kind of cute when stoned. Reaching up she rubbed at what was left of his cranial plating. "Ready for bed?"

"Tired." He agreed, switching back to English as if completely un-aware he'd been slipping a moment before. Tilting his head he looked at her carefully. "We ok?"

"I think so. For now, at any rate." She sighed, realizing that one eye would probably not be good enough for him to navigate on his own. His depth perception would be shot to hell. Stepping away took two tries, with him reluctant to let go. Still, he was willing enough to follow, when she tugged his arm. Scuffing the various clutter out of his way, she led him over to the work table, and used her elbow to lower the bed to a height he could easily sit on. "That's it." Deunan encouraged wearily. "Now lay down."

"You'll stay?" He asked abruptly, clasping her arm. "In case… I forget…?"

"They're going to give you something to make you sleepy." She assured him, stooping to kiss his nose. "When you wake up in a few hours…or days… this'll all just be a stupid memory. Or better yet, you won't remember at all."

"Deunan…" Briareos wouldn't be distracted from his question, fretting as if to sit up again.

"I'll stay. Big idiot." She scolded. "They'll just have to deal with it." The doctors materialized at her side, grimly professional as they took over the medi-bed controls and reattached the various catheters that had been pulled free in Briareos' short-lived burst of self-defensive destruction. Deunan wasn't above glaring at the nervous specialist as he administered a carefully measured dose of some new drug into her partner's neck. She might forgive him, as a matter of politics, but if he thought for a second she'd forget? He had another thing coming.

"Don't even think of overdosing him to compensate for last time." She stated for the record.

"No ma'am." The doctor winced but continued his work. "I wouldn't dream of it."

"Good." She shifted as the bed rose back to its regular working height, leaning against it, and her partner, as her strength flagged. Maybe they'd let her just curl up next to him on the table, Deunan mused. Probably they'd pitch a fit if she tried it. Human patients had no business being in a cybernetics clinic… god forbid a bit of her hair get into his inner circuitry or something. As it stood they'd probably have to vacuum half the jungle out of him. She resigned herself to a long, uncomfortable shift standing watch until she was confident that the quacks wouldn't do something _else_ stupid. Her own injuries would keep until she was certain that Briareos was out of danger.

"This has been one bitch of a day, I'll tell you something." She grinned down at Briareos. He rubbed a sympathetic finger against her arm, the vitals flashing on the screen above him showing his slow slide into unconsciousness. Tucking his arm back against his chest before it became just so much dead weight, she kissed his nose again. "Sleep, tin-man. You've earned it."

Standing up finally, she turned to see Fuller was still waiting for her to explain herself. Deunan decided to just continue on as she'd started and see how far she could get before they hauled her off to the brig. She'd apologize later. For now she was afraid if she gave an inch, they'd take a mile. "Don't suppose I can have your word, sir, that my partner will be given the same care and treatment due to any officer of the Federated American Armed forces?"

"You're a very paranoid young woman, lieutenant." Her CO pressed his lips together, not amused. "But… given the circumstances, I suppose it cannot be helped. You have my word. We are not barbarians here in Comacalco, Tomahawk aside. You have nothing to fear."

"Great." She relaxed a little inspite of herself. It was a mistake. Releasing a measure of her anxiety only made her more desperate to lie down. "Don't suppose someone could get me a chair or something." Deunan tried to cover for her flagging energy. "Looks like I'm going to be here a while."

"It seems bandages might be in order as well." The base commander pointed judiciously down at her hands. She cursed to see that they were sweating blood again. No wonder Briareos could smell it, she mused. Every time she'd touched him she'd been leaving smears. "Given that you have my word as to your partner's well being, I suggest that you return to your own treatment. Ms. Knute?"

"Promised him I'd stay." She wiped her forehead on her arm, feeling greyer by the moment. " I keep my promises."

Blinking as the room tilted sideways, Deunan wondered in pleasant surprise at how weightless she suddenly felt, like all the stress and exhaustion of the day was just lifted away. Her hands still hurt, but she'd sort of gotten used to the lancing pain by now, and if she closed her eyes she could just about manage to pretend everything was ok. Just for a second, she promised herself firmly. She'd just rest for a bit, then she'd get back on the job.


	11. Chapter 11

"What? Oh damn it." She came awake with the immediate knowledge that she hadn't intended to doze off in the first place.

Deunan blinked and took in her unexpected surroundings. Midday sunlight was painting the far wall of the small white-themed room, catching on the bits of polished steel where medical equipment was stored on racks nearby. The clinic, she reminded herself. Someone had tucked her into bed in the clinic after… she'd passed out? Deunan tried to move her fingers, curious at the lack of pain she felt in her hands, and wasn't surprised to find them completely immobilized. Everything up to the elbow in fact was pretty much unuseable. She wiggled her arms until she could free herself of the sheet and told her tired muscles to get-on-with-it as she sat up without the luxury of using her hands for leverage.

Deunan had to laugh a little at the sight of her arms once she was free of the bed. She looked like some sort of cartoon character. The reason why her hands wouldn't move was because of the oversized gel-filled mittens that some thorough doctor had encased her in. The synthetic skin seemed to extend half way up her forearm, undoubtedly for structural integrity reasons, and was supplemented by some no-nonsense looking bandages and splints. The intended message was obvious, 'Do not move your hands while we're regrowing the skin.' She nodded to herself at the not-unreasonable precaution. Peering through the semi-transparent gel she could see for herself that her hands were royally messed up. Too much fooling around and there'd be not only scaring, but permanent nerve damage. As it was she'd be lucky to not have a few months of therapy to look forward to. No more tree climbing, or shooting, for a good long while, she told herself. Probably it'd take ages to get her grip strength back by the time she could use her hands again.

Even as battered as Briareos had been, she mused, he'd probably be field ready before her this time. Thinking of him gave her the motivation to try standing up. There was the issue of how she was going to feed herself, wash, or god-forbid, pee properly, for the next few weeks. But worrying about her partner's wellbeing took precedence over such mundane things. She'd promised him she'd stay. She sighed in exasperation at her weakness. Of course she'd been overruled by the doctors after passing out like that, but that didn't mean she was completely off the hook as far as responsibility went.

Luckily the door handle was a lever not a knob. She padded down the hallway towards the familiar entrance to the cybernetics labs, not caring if the nurses were startled by the sight of her out of bed. The main lab's doors were locked, as always, but standing on tip toe to see into the room, she didn't see evidence of a cyborg still on the table, so she chose to be optimistic and padded further down the hall to the room they'd originally tucked him in on arrival.

Her suspicions turned out to be well-founded. A very familiar heap of cyborg was half-tucked under a sheet as he rested, plugged into a wall of equipment showing various signals and measurements to passer's by. Deunan sighed softly in relief at the generally positive condition most of the gear hinted at, understanding some of it thanks to her occasional visits along with him for checkups in LA. She read what she could see of the various nursing logs, fumbling a moment to attempt to turn the page for the previous day's entries, before giving up. Her 'mittens' were just not good enough for the task. She'd have to have some patient orderly read the notes for her. But still from the quick peek, it seemed he was coming along nicely. Also apparent, judging by the mass of reports, she'd been asleep a good long while. She hoped she hadn't missed anything too traumatic for her big guy.

"Lieutenant? It seems your partner isn't the only one with abnormal drug tolerances." She turned around at the ironic tone of the greeting, finding the senior clinician waiting for her to notice him at the door. Seeing her shrug as permission to intrude, he crossed the room and gestured at the various displays. "But since you're awake, I'm pleased to report the patient has undergone initial repairs with minimal disruption, after the… unfortunate sedation error during triage. We have him stable and comfortable, and are awaiting some part fabrication from the machine shop downstairs before we continue with reassembly."

"Fabrication?" Deunan frowned. "I thought he was mostly off-the-shelf?"

"Exterior components are interchangeable, but his internal exoskeletal structure is, like his biopack, unique. There was some frame damage." He admitted the last with apparent chagrin. "Not surprising, considering the nature of his opponent, but still, irksome. Even with experiment Thirty-Two, Dr. Zand clearly hadn't perfected all the mechanical structures."

"Or maybe he just never anticipated having one of his creations try and kill another one." Deunan sighed, still wondering, after all the years that had passed, whether the cyberneticist was a criminal, or a victim of circumstance. She shook her head.

He was a criminal, regardless of whether he'd done her and her partner a good turn or not. That much was pretty apparent in hindsight. But if she was ever in a position to bring him in? She didn't know that she would, or could. Conflict of interest, she told herself grimly, probably she'd never be put in such a scenario for just that reason. Maybe Briareos could put friendship aside in order to do his duty, even to the point of hunting his 'savior' but she wasn't so sure she could do the same.

"He clearly made considerable improvements in his design with your partner's construction." The doctor next to her seemed to feel her internal struggle, frowning for his own reasons as he studied the various numbers flashing above where Briareos slept. "Even for a ZIIF suit, this one is remarkable in its attention to detail. Every seam. Every seal, his power supplies are perfectly balanced. Did you know that? Not just the same brand, or same manufacturing batch, but each cell matched to its pair right down to the cycle frequency of the chemical reactions. He must have tested and rejected a hundred of the cells in order to find the four that ended up making it into the final build."

"Would it make a difference?" Deunan blinked at the random bit of engineering trivia. "They're just batteries, right?"

"Normal microfluxuations in the power output current can create sub-harmonics within the electrical systems." The cyberneticist relaxed his demeanor enough to explain to her in plain-speech.

"The more identical the batteries are, the more they 'seem' like just one big battery rather than two separate cells, or in this case, four. This means that the power supplied to his system is remarkably clean, no chance of wire or motor corrosion, back-feed currents, or anything that would cause slow-but-measurable degradations to his system overtime, not to mention the potential for harm to the AI system and biological components from the internal EM fields so close to his brain. Your partner, Lieutenant Knute, was built as a finely-tuned high performance machine. A masterpiece even, for those of us with background and interest enough to notice such details. I've studied almost all the ZIIF suited soldiers to ever come out of his labs, both living and deceased. Your partner is by far the best, at least from a mechanical standpoint."

"Most people thought he was pretty awesome when he was still flesh and bone too…" She folded her arms, or tried to, the gesture made impossible by the wrappings around her hands. "But it's strange to hear that Zand spent so much effort on him… Just to cut and run when he did. If he was trying so hard to prove people wrong, and make a 'perfect' suit… why bolt just when he was about to show to the world that he was right?"

"Maybe he concluded that solving the physical side of the equation meant nothing if he couldn't crack the psychological limitations of the suit as well." Her companion shrugged thoughtfully. "Maybe he was pressured to run by those who wanted his golden-goose for themselves? Who knows. He was a man haunted by his past, Lieutenant. Whatever his motivations were, I doubt they were as simple as people claim."

She stared over at the graying man with sudden interest, wondering at his background. How did a guy get good at fixing ZIIF suits…unless he trained under someone else who knew even more about them? "You knew him? Personally?"

"I was one of his students for a time. Yes." The doctor smiled briefly. "I suppose I knew him as well as anyone did. Or… I thought I knew him. He always seemed perfectly rational to me… if a trifle… gun shy? Or perhaps that's not the right word. He was very jealous of his privacy. And of his freedom. Anyone who tried to curtail either of those two commodities often found him a very frustrating adversary."

"I always got the impression he _liked_ being a little mysterious." Deunan smiled to herself. "Sort of like that classic mad-uncle character from the Nutcracker suite… you know? The one who fixes Clara's toy, and then spends like the rest of the ballet trying to lure her to give it up?"

"That's an uncommonly romantic thought for a young woman like you, Ms. Knute." Briareos' doctor turned to her with an amused smile. "Do you really see your partner as a 'Nutcracker Prince'?"

"Well no." She bit her cheek to keep from grinning at the silly notion. "Bri is Bri. And… we're not exactly ballet people. But still. I think Zand got a kick out of the whole thing… what with my partner being himself, and not the guy the army mistook him for, and me showing up and making a big stink about the whole thing… I got the impression he kind of liked being able to work on a civilian for once. Whatever his reasons, he really liked Briareos. Maybe it was just he made a good experimental subject or something."

"His psychological profile is remarkably stable." The cyberneticist shrugged. "We had him under observation for some time when he first arrived… discretely, of course."

"He noticed." Deunan remarked drolly. "Believe me, he noticed."

"Unavoidable I suppose." His doctor didn't sound too distressed. "But even so. Given the stress of his civilian occupation, and your mutual military careers since… he shows remarkable mental resiliency."

"Does that mean he's not going to go crazy?" She asked softly, wondering if she'd finally get a straight answer from someone, for a change. "Because I'm really sick to death of everyone and their cousin tapping their watches at me every year to remind me I'm on borrowed time with him, you know? I really am."

"Basing prognosis on purely measurable data from the past three years?" The older man shrugged, tucking his hands into his pockets. "I would say that there's no predictive evidence that he's lost any mental acuity or elasticity. And honestly, given the intimate and long-standing nature of your relationship, Ms. Knute. I would be obliged to point out to you, that if he did start to… slip. You'd likely be the first to know."

"So he's fine then." Deunan relaxed marginally. "Tomahawk and the others… they were just schitzo in the first place…"

"Perhaps." Came the unhelpfully vague reply. "They had… let's call them risk-factors, shall we? But none of them were measurably psychologically unsound until after a year or more with the Gamma system in place. In the end? We don't know, lieutenant, what it is about the suit, or the AI, or both, that is too much for the human psyche to tolerate. It could be that your partner is the one-in-a-thousandth percentile that has no psychological defects at all that will surface because of his circumstance. Or it could be that he just has more endurance than most, but will succumb eventually. Or it could be that Zand somehow corrected the source of the problem in refining his mechanical and software subsystems on his final iteration of the experiment. We may never know."

"Great." She felt sick all over again. Now not only was she in the dark, as ever, but she was obliged to admit to herself that there _wasn't_ some giant medical conspiracy to keep the truth from her. They didn't know anymore what was going to happen than she did, than Briareos himself did. Probably even Zand was holding his breath, wherever the fuck he was, if he was still alive.

Funny that so many people's hopes-and-dreams were balanced on Briareos, of all people. Her self-proclaimed 'boring as dirt' lover, with his bookish hobbies and indifferent cooking skills, was by dint of being alive and sane after five years in a cybernetic body that had driven lesser men mad in one… a miracle in the eyes of a small minority of the world's scientific community.

"There is one thing on this topic that I'd like you to be particularly sensitive to, Lieutenant Knute." Briareos' doctor drew her attention back to the present with a polite cough. "Tomahawk. Mr. White. Possessed a Hecatonchires-system as well. As you know."

"Yeah? What about it?" She glanced between where Bri was resting, and his doctor, suddenly remembering something that the base commander had hinted at before she passed out.

" We've found physical evidence of - There's a small, but potentially serious risk… that your partner's system was compromised before the Captain was… incapacitated."

Incapacitated? She smiled grimly at the choice of words. If the scouts had backtracked from their pick-up point while she was sleeping, they'd have undoubtedly found what was left of the corpse by now. Incapacitated made it sound so clean and easy. Far better than the reality of what they'd been obliged to do to the man to get him down. She closed her eyes against the flash of memory, of Briareos' hands and Tomahawk's crumpling skull. Fucker had had it coming, she told herself. He'd been trying to do the same thing to her partner. It was just a matter of who got there first. Had she had the capacity, she'd have been right in there helping to tear the 'borg apart with her bare hands.

Kill or be killed. Wasn't that the law of the jungle? Funny how it wasn't guilt or revulsion she felt. Deunan studied the memory abstractly as the doctor kept talking around the problem without getting to the point. What did she feel? Sadness for Tomahawk who'd been so far gone that he didn't even recognize his own imminent death? Sadness for Briareos who had to put up with this shit time and again, for no reason other than the fact that it fell to him as the biggest, the strongest, 'the cyborg'?

She didn't want Briareos to end up like Tomahawk. The constant but unspoken worry rose to the front of her thoughts. In that moment, when both men had nothing left but their own hands to use as weapons, both battered, both broken, both desperate, they'd really been like twins of each other, more alike than not in their mindless need to kill, despite the very different reasons motivating each of them. In that instant, with Tomahawk's skull collapsing between his hands, Briareos _had_ forgotten himself.

Absolute power corrupted. She was cynic enough to easily believe it. Given his ability? His strength? Was it so much of a leap for Tomahawk to begin to believe that he truly was untouchable? That he was better? That he was, at some level, a god? Would Briareos someday start to buy into that same egomania?

He was the best at most things he set himself to try. Deunan chewed her lower lip. On the battle field? If he truly wanted it? How many people could honestly match him? He was self-taught, but was still smarter than most guys she knew who went to college. So what was to stop him? From tipping over that oh-so-crucial edge from confidence into megalomania?

Well, _her_ for one. She exhaled slowly, knowing it was the truth. He'd said as much himself a time or two. She reminded him of… him, if he was inclined to forget for a moment. It had worked in the clearing. It'd worked in the lab when he was more-tha-half-corked on the useless tranquilizers. It'd worked even in the depths of his depression years ago. She'd always had the knack of getting through to him, whether he'd welcomed her reminders or not.

"It's possible Tomahawk planted something in his systems somewhere that we can't find." The doctor's next words caught her just as she was kicking herself to pay attention. "We can tell that he was attempting to interfere with your partner's software systems at some point during your encounter, but only Briareos would be able to tell us how effective the attack was, and if anything is… not as it should be. We're obliged to take some precautions in the short term until we're certain. Which I hope you will be sympathetic about. We will naturally try to keep our curtailment of his freedom to a minimum."

"What sort of precautions." Deunan blinked, forcing herself to digest the unpleasant news. "What sort of stuff might Tomahawk have done? He's dead. What could he hope to accomplish?"

"Revenge, I suppose." The cyberneticists shrugged. "In regards to your partner? We've deliberately only recharged his hydraulics to fifty percent capacity. Enough for him to get up and move around for normal tasks, but not enough for him to… punch through the walls, for example."

"Seems reasonable." She nodded slowly. "You think he might have some sort of virus…?"

"I'd think of it more as 'puppeteering', if I had to describe it." The doctor grimaced. "Tomahawk… had accomplished as much with other victims. Hacking at the most brutish level, taking over their AI's in such a way as to interrupt the normal bio-pack-to-machine interface and inserting his own instructions instead. Of course, at the time, he was alive to consciously control his victim's movements. Which is not the case currently."

"Amen for that." Deunan murmured under her breath. "What else, we unplug his radio? Monitor his vitals?"

"Yes, and yes." Briareos' doctor grimaced. "I've already added an auxiliary safety switch for his power supplies in case there's any chance of malignant code buried in his cortex that tries to turn him into a walking chemical-bomb, so that's one worry we won't have to deal with. But that doesn't mean that other parts of his system might not suddenly decide to shut down. As soon as he wakes, we'll have him run a deep scan of his own subroutines and compare the results against the logs we had him generate on arrival. Anything that doesn't synch up precisely, he ought to be able to reformat from internal backups, at worst we'll go through it line by line. Although he was remarkably obstinate about letting us take a copy of his system for our records…."

"He doesn't like people poking around too much in his head." Deunan nodded slowly, recalling other occasions where curious clinicians had asked, and been flatly refused by her partner. "He's fine with people studying his mechanical layout, but he's kinda… touchy about people messing with his software. If Tomahawk _did_ manage to plant something, he's going to be hella'pissed when he wakes up."

"I find myself rather sympathetic." The cyberneticist agreed calmly. "Regardless. He hasn't awoken yet, if you were concerned. We have, as you see, restored all but one of his eyes. We're holding off on restoring his plating until after the frame welding is done, so I apologize that he still looks a bit of a mess."

"Thanks." She winced at the memory of threatening the man with malpractice before. "I appreciate all you've done."

"I believe we've also repaired the damage done to his hearing, but he'll have to judge for himself whether all is as it should be." The doctor shrugged. "You'll want to sit with him, I assume? I'll send a nurse along with a chair. The drugs will wear off in an hour or so. He'd probably appreciate something familiar nearby.."

Deunan nodded silently as the doctor checked a few more cables and tubes before exiting the way he'd come. Briareos filled almost every inch of the bed, even stripped down to almost half his mass by the loss of plating and bits of his limbs that were being repaired separately. Taking advantage of the fact that the skeleton of his right arm was folded across his stomach, she propped her hip on his mattress in the gap available, leaning over slowly until she could rest her cheek against his chest. One of the few plates still remaining was smooth beneath her cheek. "We've gotta stop meeting like this, love," she whispered at him as she watched him sleep.

The too-regular sound of his respiration made her suspect that he was getting 'help' from the machines nearby instead of breathing properly on his own. She cursed Tomahawk again for the amount of damage he'd managed to do. If only she'd been faster she chided herself, smarter, a better partner… she'd have found a way to get the bastard disabled _before_ he'd gone and pulled her man half way to bits.

Deunan blinked back futile tears. How was a normal person supposed to fight a monster like that? It just wasn't fair. It wouldn't have done Briareos any good if she'd gone and gotten herself smashed flat in trying to help more. She rubbed her face against his sheet instead of risk having him see her crying. What was done was done. They'd be alright. Once her skin grew back, and he got some welding done? They'd be good as new. Probably just in time to get transferred on to god-only-knew where, but that was beyond her control. Shifting a little further onto his comatose bulk, she found a marginally comfortable way to fold one of her legs under her while the other dangled loosely over the side of the gurney, not great, but good enough for a catnap.

"Anytime you feel like getting up… I'll be right here, m'kay?" She teased her partner as she let herself relax.

888888888

Deunan awoke briefly when the arm pinned beneath her shifted, but a murmur of discouragement from Briareos and the touch of his hand on her hair convinced her that he wasn't looking for her to get moving quite yet. Dozing again as he caressed her neck she made sleepy note of the fact he was talking softly to someone. His soft rumble blended readily into her dreams adding to their strangeness as she drifted into unconsciousness.

The beach she walked along was absolutely covered in conch shells. Each she lifted to her ear contained a different sound. Birds chirping, the wind through the trees, Briareos's soothing rumble as he read to her from a random novel one night when she was thirteen and nursing a bad case of the flu in Doc's clinic. She smiled to herself at how well she remembered the random moment, setting the shell aside so she could listen again later as she moved to find others along the stretch of sand. Deunan tried every one she found, amused by the strangeness of her discovery, until finally one startled her awake with the unmistakable sound of a baby crying. Blinking and wondering at herself for the peculiar dream, Deunan squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again in an attempt to make senses of her situation.

Briareos. She reminded herself after a moment. She had resigned herself to catnapping the day away on his chest since she could hardly do much else with her hands bound up. The man of the hour had stilled his touch against her hair as she woke, watching her with a characteristic tilt of his head. Both of his extendibles were off, she noted absently, making his mood even more difficult to read than usual. What would he do, she wondered, if she offered to find him some surrogate 'ears' to emote with while waiting for his optics to come back from the repair shop? The momentarily absurd image of him with a pair of pencils taped to the end of his servos in place of his missing accessories almost made her burst out laughing.

"Nice to see you too." He mistook her sudden grin with a resigned sigh. "What's so funny? If you don't mind me asking?"

"Your extendibles are off. Did you know?" She smiled again as she shifted a little, trying to find a more comfortable position for her shoulders. One had gone a bit numb with the way she'd been sleeping on it.

He sighed again at her, ruffling her hair in gentle punishment at her amusement at the obvious. "And that's funny because?"

"It's a different look." She shrugged, unrepentant. "You been up long? You should have poked me… I could have hollered you up some coffee or something."

"You looked like you needed the sleep. And… I wanted some time… to get myself sorted." He hesitated as he spoke, as if uncertain of what to say. She stopped smiling and watched him carefully for a moment. He looked back impassively, 'hiding behind his face', she'd learned to call it. Deunan hated when he did that. She didn't have the luxury of having the choice of whether to emote or not.

"Doctors ask you about running a system scan yet?" She broached the unpleasant topic the only way she knew how. "Or are they pussyfooting around for the sake of politeness?"

He snorted softly, relaxing a bit as she revealed she already knew what was going on. Leaning her head sideways, she rested her forehead back against his chest, rocking her head against him in an awkward caress. Briareos resumed petting her hair slowly. "They didn't need to ask. I was pretty much set on doing one as soon as I woke up. Two so far. Thinking of doing another in a little bit."

She exhaled softly, a little entertained by his meticulousness, but mostly alarmed by the idea that he could feel that the rogue cyborg had 'gotten' to him without being told. Deunan couldn't imagine what it had to be like, to wake up with the sensation that someone else had been touching your stuff… but _inside_ your head. Like walking into your apartment to find your place had been flipped by thieves, she supposed, but worse. Even if they didn't take anything, the fact that they'd _been_ there was traumatic.

Almost like a rape, she mused, although the very word left a sour taste in her mouth. Not a physical violation, surely, but mentally? Would that make it better? Or worse? Worse, she decided grimly. How the hell was she supposed to help with something like _that_? She turned her face against him and nuzzled his skin affectionately. "Do you need me to do anything? Get you anything?"

"Nah." He shook his head slowly. "I'm good."

"I'm sorry, Bri." She shifted up his chest as best she could on her elbows, pressing a kiss to his repaired jaw. The rest of his face was almost entirely devoid of plating, probably completely numb as far as touch went. "I'm so sorry."

"Idiot. You have nothing to apologize for." He scolded, shifting his arms to support her before she slid off his chest. His right was completely new, she noticed with tired humor. That'd probably been what had woken her the first time; the techs sneaking in while she napped to snap a new piece onto her man. His left was what was left of the 'old' one, she noted. Barely two weeks out of the shrink-wrap, and her partner had trashed both his new limbs in the course of a single fight. How many more could he go through, she wondered with dark humor, before they ran out of replacements?

Briareos breathed against her hair for a long moment, not above showing that he too could use a bit of cuddling, now and again. "You smell good." He sighed at last, tilting his face so he could rest his chin against her head.

"… did you find anything?" She almost hated to ask, closing her eyes as she did. If he said yes, that Tomahawk _had_ left some malware - Virus? What the hell was a person to call it? - behind would that mean that they were done? That he could fix it and they'd be clean? Or would they be stuck, always wondering as the scans came back clean, never exactly sure that something evil wasn't still lingering in some hidden corner somewhere.

"Nothing yet."

Judging by the softness with which he spoke, Deunan knew in her stomach that it was the later. She squeezed her eyes shut and told herself to deal with it. It was just one more Sword-of-Damocles hanging over their heads. It had plenty of company. Would Briareos go crazy today or tomorrow? This year or next? Would some bugaboo planted by Tomahawk in his subsystems surface this month? This decade? This lifetime? In the end, did it matter? Everyone died someday.

She tried to draw a calming breath, but it came out sounding ragged even to her ears. Briareos tightened his grip on her shoulders in response, shifting to hold her closer, providing what assurance that he could. She told herself firmly to get a grip. The ironic thing being, of course, that with her hands all but mummy-wrapped, she couldn't grip anything at the moment. That at least spurred a return to ire, and to humor, she huffed at her predicament, giving voice to what she _could_ bitch about.

"If the bastard wasn't already dead, I'd kill him. We're going to be stuck in this clinic for _weeks_ at this rate. I hope these people are damned grateful for what we've done for them… that's all I'm saying."

"They're saying they're going to trank me up again later tonight." Briareos agreed drily. "They need to do some welding or something. Apparently I've got micro-fractures all down my right side and my head's the wrong shape."

"Yeah they mentioned something about that." She kissed his jaw again, sympathetically. "But once that's done the rest ought to go quick I've heard. Just a matter of snapping all the rest of you back together and polishing you up proper. You'll probably be done long before me or Hernando."

"Compound breaks, both thighs. He's down for the month." Briareos reported their CO's condition absently, pulling back enough to get a good look at her. "I thought you were ok? What're you doing out of bed if you're in pieces, woman?"

She grinned at his obliviousness. "You telling me you didn't notice? I was sleeping on you for hours…"

His head-tilt of worry was enough to make her grin even more. Probably he been so worried about the inside of his head, he'd never even considered there was a reason for her odd choice of sleeping arrangements. She used an elbow to flip the corner of her blanket back. Some thoughtful nurse had undoubtedly covered her up in making her rounds, but had inadvertently given her some camouflage as a result. Freeing an arm at last, she waved at her partner for comedic effect. "I'm a Muppet!" She declared cheerfully. "Look! Blue!"

"Christ." He caught her gently by the wrist, looking at the gel, and probably through the gel, with sudden concern. "Right down to the bone… How the – oh – the god-damn fuel cells…. You idiot! You stupid stupid woman… what were you thinking! Grabbing them bare-handed…"

She grimaced, knowing that he was only barking because he was scared for her, but still, she didn't need to be told it had been a dumb idea. It was either yank the cells, or watch as Tomahawk ripped her partner to bits for fun. Given the same circumstance, she didn't see how she could have made any other choice. "They say it'll grow back… I'll have some loss of sensitivity in my palms especially but my fingers will probably be same as ever in a few months."

Sensing his silent horror at her explanation, she tugged gently at her arm until he let go, tucking it back under the blanket as she sat up. "They'll be usable again in two weeks, less if the grafts take the way they should. Don't freak out, big guy."

"Your _hands_, Deunan." He protested in a rough whisper. "We're talking about your _hands_, girl… You _need_ those…"

"Kinda hard to shoot without'em." She agreed weakly, feeling shaky for the first time at her close call. "I'll be ok."

"Another few seconds… and there wouldn't have been enough left for them to graft on to." He couldn't do her the favor of just letting it go, still horrified on her behalf at what she'd nearly lost.

"I'm ok, baby." She elbowed him gently. "Really." Mustering a smile she huffed in mock annoyance, "Its _you_ everyone's worried about."

"My hands can be replaced with spare parts." He pointed out gently. "Yours can't."

"You saying I'm too good to have cybernetic hands?" She raised an eyebrow, trying to make a joke out of his unwarranted fears. "What, is there one rule for you, and one for me? I happen to think there could be some serious utility in having modular fingers…"

"Don't." He cut her off before she could enumerate her planned improvements. "Just… Don't. Alright?"

"Bri…" She frowned at how touchy he was all of a sudden. It wasn't something they'd ever really discussed, she realized slowly. What would happen if she ever _was_ injured on the force, or in the war. Most people got the cybernetics installed and just kept going, but it wasn't exactly one-size-fit-all.

She didn't kid herself that she could afford on her own anything close to what Briareos had. It wasn't even like he'd paid for his kit, in the end; only a fraction of it, to appease the army, which had still eaten a huge loss on his account. Then again, she mused, that 'fraction' had pretty much wiped out most of Briareos' savings from six years of SWAT work. Was he worried that whatever she got would be crap by comparison? Or just that she'd be… less… without all of her original parts?

Would he leave her just because of something like that? The idea left her cold. Just because she was willing to sleep with him, regardless of what he looked like, didn't mean that the feeling was necessarily mutual. Maybe he wouldn't like _her_ without her hands.

Sitting awkwardly upright beside her, he reached around her with his 'finished' arm in order to haul her into his lap in one quick tug. Her protest died on her lips at the feel of his face pressed once again against her hair. Barely leaving her space to breathe properly, Briareos held her close. "Deunan…"

"I'm sorry." She sighed, knowing that the last thing he needed right now was to be stressing about her on top of everything else on his plate. "It wasn't something I exactly planned, you know? It worked… didn't it? Jesus, Bri, what else was I supposed to do? Let him kill you?"

"You know how, a long time ago, I told you I didn't _ever_ want you throwing your life away for my sake?" He murmured after a long pause. "Well I'm adding an addendum to that that involves you getting maimed as well, alright? Not for me. Not even a little. You hear me, hellcat?"

Deunan laughed breathlessly against his shoulder, relieved and aggravated all at once. "Not going to happen, big guy. You've got to give me something here. I'm not really cut out for sitting on the bench where it's safe, you know? If you're in trouble, and I see a way to help, I'm going to help. I can't and won't take the time to worry about whether I'll get a hang-nail in the attempt when I could be saving your neck instead."

"Well maybe you ought to." He disagreed fervently. "_Promise me_, Deunan. Promise me or this ends, this ends right now!"

"Coward." She called him on his irrational fears. "It's not like I was offering them in barter for your life or anything. It was just collateral damage, a stupid oversight on my part. I'll wear gloves next time… or remember to bring a pair of tongs. Not a mistake I'll soon forget, I promise you."

"You…" He growled, mustering a new argument. She silenced him with a kiss, and another when he drew breath to protest. "Deunan!" He finally got a word in edgewise on his third attempt. "Stop trying to distract me."

"You're being unreasonable." She stated firmly. "And frankly I'm a little pissed at you for even threatening to walk on me just because I botched saving your rusty carcass out there and got myself a bit scorched."

"Now you're putting words into my mouth." He complained, completely thrown off his rhythm. "Damn it, woman, am I to have _no_ say in whether you continue to explore new depths of masochism in this interminable partnership of ours?"

"None." Deunan replied blandly, head-butting his chin in punishment. "And that's for calling us interminable! Christ, you make the _worst_ patient, you know that? Keep this attitude up, mister, and I and my cute Muppet-hands are going back to my own room and leaving you to sulk alone!"

"Stay." He disagreed abruptly, not even giving her a chance to worry that he'd take her at face value and shoo her out of his room. Arms circling her back again, he pinned her to his chest with a soft noise of surrender. "I don't want to argue with you right now, girl."

"So don't." She shifted enough to wrap an arm around his neck, which amounted to little more than hooking an elbow around, but still served its purpose. "I don't want to fight with you either."

Easing backwards with her tucked against his chest, Briareos fumbled with the bed's controls until it was angled enough to give them some support. Holding her for another long minute he sighed in soft acceptance of his lot. "It'd kill me, if something happened to you Deunan. You know that, right?"

"Losing you wouldn't be a barrel of fun for me either, big guy." She whispered back. "I've kinda gotten used to our arguments after all this time… But nothing happened. I'm fine. Well… mostly fine. Better off than Hernando, at any rate. And you'll be fine too. You'll see. There isn't any hour in any day when a jerk like Tomahawk could ever land a hit that counted on a guy like you."

"Flattery, I do not need." He drawled, mood lightening with her teasing despite his protests. "As for the rest, we'll deal with it. Three scans down, a few hundred more to go… If he so much as left a gum-wrapper, I'll find it."

Briareos shrugged, encouraging her to resume her place against his shoulder before poking at the computer console within arm's reach. "If I scare up some breakfast, you want something too?"

"You gonna feed it to me?" She teased, snuggling closer to his side. He wasn't the most comfortable perch, with his inner mechanisms exposed, but his shoulders had enough muscular-fiber packed into them around the joints that they made a pretty good pillow regardless. "'Cuz otherwise the nurse will have to. And that just won't be nearly as romantic, if you know what I mean."

Briareos snorted with laughter as he sat back, converting the little screen from a computer to a video display with one final click on the keypad. Content to watch the random filler that passed for 'television' on base in the mid afternoon, Deunan couldn't help but wonder how much of their lives they'd spent so far nursing various injuries or cybernetic-related repairs and watching TV in clinics. How many more years of aggregate time would they spend doing the same in future?

Close on the heels of the first thought, came the resolve to slip down to the kitchens once she was able to dress in some semblance of normal clothes and wander the base unsupervised. She had to thank the chefs for the pastry-knife as well as explain why they weren't getting it back. After all the trouble he'd caused them, she hoped they'd be pleased to know how their contribution to 'the cause' had directly helped to bring Tomahawk down.

While she was at it, she'd put in a request for a pint pistachio ice cream.

**- Fin -**


End file.
